Artful Facade
by Sky Sorceress
Summary: Sometimes you fly too close to the sun and lose your wings. With sixth year approaching, the danger Harry seeks can be found only in the form of Draco Malfoy. What follows is a twist in the line between hatred, love, and need.Slash. H/D and a bit of R/Hr.
1. The Flight of Icarus

I never loved him. 

It was something else.

Some screwed up thing inside of me, something I never even knew was there. Maybe it's gone now. God, I hope so. Maybe, maybe this thing inside of me will disappear, has disappeared...

Once, Ron told me this phrase that is sometimes said in the wizarding world: "All great power eventually turns on itself." 

It means that if anything becomes too great, too big, too powerful for comprehension, it has no choice but to destroy itself.

I laughed when I heard the phrase. It sounded absurd, because for one thing I didn't think it was true. If something grows powerful enough it should be _less_ prone to destroying itself. It should be strong and virtually indestructible. And if something is so powerful that nothing can destroy it, why the hell would this power, instead of being grateful for this safety, choose instead to destroy itself? I guess it just didn't make sense to me. 

The other reason this sounded absurd is simply because of the idea behind it. It makes me think of families huddled by the fire place, waiting patiently for some great power to get philosophical and decide that destroying itself is the only way to eternal bliss or whatever. Who's going to wait for that? What coward would just lurk around, biding their time while some evil is destroying the lives of everyone that person ever cared about, until it eventually destroys itself? Oh yeah, that makes a lot of sense. Let's wait for evil to be wrought and pain to be spread. Bring on the general mayhem and despair! We'll be quiet until everything is peaceful again and the world we know has been destroyed and then, when the power is gone and we're good and ready, perhaps we'll go have a cup of tea. Right. That's crazy.

But now I pray that the phrase is true. I pray every night into my pillow. I pray to the stars, because whatever there is inside of me, it's commanding. Powerful. So powerful and shaking and heart-wrenching that I can only wait for it to destroy itself.

Because I could never destroy it myself.

~~~

Tangled limbs. Too much space in between them. It drove him crazy, there always seemed to be that distance between them no matter how close they got. Always a warning space, always a shadow that stopped the two from truly knowing each other.

Harry Potter fell against the floor. Draco came after. The two seventh-years stared at each other. Harry never became lost in Draco's eyes. It was in Draco's eyes that Harry found himself.

Oh god. He really just thought that, didn't he?

Harry pushed Draco away.

"Don't be a prude now," Draco said with a laugh. "Little late for tales of chastity, isn't it?"

"We have to stop this."

"Do we?"

"Yes. Yes, before it gets worse, we have to stop it right now before it becomes an-"

"Addiction?"

Harry was silent.

"All right then," Draco said languidly. "This'll be the last time."

"That's what we said last time."

"Yes. And the time before that, too. You see, we were lying, Potter. It won't be the last time. But when we say it will be, you feel better, don't you? You think one last time and then I'll slip quietly back into my role as Boy Hero. It's a way for you to feel less guilty."

"Since when do you care how I feel, Malfoy?"

"I don't." Draco frowned to himself. "Not really."

"We stop this now." 

Draco shook his head with a small smirk. 

"You don't believe me?" Harry said, turning on the other boy with a glare. 

"Of course not."

Harry turned away. He glared at the wall in front of him. He felt Draco's lips on his neck. Almost automatically he turned and kissed him with a urgent needing. But as soon as Draco tried to respond Harry had pulled away again. His face was in his hands. Draco paused, sharp grey eyes watching him. He did not touch the other boy, simply looked at him, perplexed.

"God," Harry muttered. "How did we even get here?"

~~~

Fifth year. Voldemort's power growing. All sorts of people drawn to him, the strong, the weak, those seeking shelter, those seeking vengeance. Hogwarts remained a safe haven, sheltered from the magical world. It was a world in itself, a world of dances and butterbeer, harmless charms and Quidditch.

Or at least that was the facade it put on, the picture it tried to become. In reality, Hogwarts was part of the real world, just like everything else. Harry Potter drew danger to him and it was in Hogwarts where that danger manifested itself, became real. It wasn't only a home to him, it was a thrill ride. He told himself he wanted to be normal, to be like everybody else, but the truth of the matter was everyday he needed the danger more and more. Everyday that he was normal, everyday when life was uneventful, it was another day where something was lacking. 

"What's wrong Harry?" Hermione asked, peering studiously over the cover of a massive book. They were in the library, studying for finals. 

"Yeah," Ron said, peering over the same book as Hermione. "You look like an elephant just ate your grandmother or something."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Do you two honestly think I don't know what you're doing behind that book?"

Ron and Hermione looked at him innocently. Harry reached over and pulled the book down.

"Still on page one," he said with a smile. "After hours of studying?"

"Ron reads rather slowly," Hermione said with a sweet smile to Ron. Ron glared at her. 

"Well forgive me. I don't happen to find great enjoyment in learning of the magical potency in cabbages. In fact, it bores me out of my skull."

"Studying is not about enjoyment, Ron! It's about getting a good education so as to become a-"

"-functional, productive member of society, yeah yeah yeah. I'm sure all of the great wizards of the world owe their success to The Joy of Cabbages." 

Harry shook his head in amazement. "I don't understand it," he told them. "You two are one of Hogwarts' longest standing couples and yet you argue whenever you're not snogging behind a library book." 

"That's not true," Ron said brightly. "We've broken up plenty of times!"

"That's right, plenty of times!" Hermione agreed.

"For about an hour. Then you're at it again."

"You're one to talk," Ron said with a sidelong look to Harry. He smiled slyly. "You and Ginny always seem occupied with your own studies. Funny that you should always study together, considering you take completely different classes and she's in another year." He glanced up. "Speak of the devil."

Ginny plopped into the vacant seat next to Harry, who promptly leaned over and kissed her. "Hello everyone," she said. "Having fun? Oh dear, Ron and Hermione aren't 'studying' behind one book again, are they? If you two think for a moment you're fooling anybody..."

"Sod off, Ginny," Ron said to his sister. "We're just studying. Fascinating stuff, this."

Harry smiled. "I thought you just said the topic bored you out of your mind."

"Well," Ron said, "I just got to a good part." He grinned wickedly to Hermione. 

Hermione frowned at him. "You're such a-"

"Prince? Gentleman? King?"

Harry decided to let the two argue or snog or whatever they wished to do, and turned to Ginny. She smiled at him. She was, Harry told himself firmly, quite pretty. He returned the smile and reached for her hand.

"It's good to see you smile," Ginny said. "You've seemed a bit gloomy lately..."

"You're here. That's reason enough to smile."

"Did you hear that Ron?" Hermione said from behind the book. "How come you never say things like that to me?"

"Because whenever I try you laugh at me."

"Well still-"

Harry turned back to Ginny. "I don't know why I've been, as you put it, gloomy. End of the year, I suppose... All these exams... After the next two years, that's it, you know? No more Hogwarts."

Ginny sighed. Suddenly remembering that Ginny would be here the year after that too, Harry quickly backtracked. "I don't mean you Ginny," he said hurriedly. "You'll always be a part of my life, you know that. I just mean... Life after Hogwarts. Seems impossible."

"Don't worry about it yet, Harry. You've still got a good two years here ahead of you." She tilted her head. "What else is troubling you?"

"Nothing. Really." He grinned. "Don't try to be so perceptive. I'm fine."

She jabbed him playfully in the ribs. "I'm not trying to be perceptive. I just want to make sure you're okay." She paused, suddenly turning serious. "Harry, are you-...This may sound silly, but are you..."

"What, Gin?"

"Bored out of your mind?"

Harry blinked. "No! Of course not. Ginny, I don't find you boring in the least, my relationship with you is the most exciting and-"

"No Harry," Ginny interrupted. "I didn't ask if I was boring. I asked if... It's simply that...well..."

"What?"

"It's just that nothing this year or last has really...happened. Nothing with Voldemort or anything of that nature. The Dark Lord is rising, people keep saying, but there's been no real evidence of that. And you, you haven't been threatened or harmed at all! Well, except for earlier this year when Draco Malfoy knocked you off your broom."

"I'm not bored, Ginny. I'm...glad that nothing has happened. Voldemort is bad."

Ginny laughed. "Voldemort is bad? Insightful, Harry. Very insightful."

"Look," Harry said, rather impatiently. "I'm fine. I really am. Don't worry about me, okay?"

"Okay," Ginny said softly. They were quiet for a moment, listening to the silence of the library as Ron and Hermione made out behind their book. 

"Quidditch match tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Harry said. 

"Last one. Championship."

"Yup."

"And then Fred and George will graduate and you'll be made captain, or so I've heard." Fred and George were co-captains this year.

"Right," Harry said. 

"Going against Slytherin."

"Yup."

"Nervous?"

"Nope."

"You're going to kick their ass."

Suddenly Harry laughed. He drew Ginny to him and they kissed. For a while. When they finally pulled away they were sitting in the same chair, Ginny on Harry's lap. They smiled to each other.

"How can I be bored with a girlfriend like you?" Harry asked. "Why would I ever go looking for danger?"

They kissed again but inwardly Ginny frowned. She had never said anything about him looking for danger.

~~~

The shouts of the students (and teachers) of Hogwarts created quite a din the next noon. The Quidditch final against the two most competitive houses! Everyone was talking about the two teams and, more importantly, the Seekers of these two teams. Malfoy and Potter. The rivalry between the two had become famous in Hogwarts. Malfoy had been made captain of the Slytherin team and since then, surprisingly, their game had improved greatly. Malfoy was a genius strategist. The maneuvers of his team quite often left the Gryffindors baffled. 

Fred and George Weasley knew this. They also knew that the only way to beat the Slytherins was to go back to the basics. 

"It all comes down to one thing," Fred said, banging his fist onto a table for emphasis. "_The Snitch._."

"Right," George said. "And who's job is it to find the Snitch?"

Everyone looked at Harry.

"Right," George said again. "The Seeker."

"This is how it's gonna go down," Fred said. "Harry sees the Snitch. Harry gets the Snitch. We win the game."

"That's it?!" Harry said. "That's your brilliant plan?"

"We never said it was brilliant," Fred said patiently. 

"And I wouldn't quite call it a plan," George added. "It's not complex enough to truly be called a plan."

"Surely you guys have something else in mind!"

"Nope. Game all depends on you."

Harry stared.

"Just kidding! We just wanted to see you sweat." Fred thumped Harry on the back, a bit too hard. "Right then, the rest of you gather round, we have some interesting techniques that just may outsmart the Slytherins."

Harry listened silently as Fred and George gave instructions to the rest of the team. 

"All right," Harry said when they were finished. "I have a question. What about Malfoy?"

"What about him?"

"Well the last time we played Slytherin, Slytherin won."

"True."

"Malfoy knocked me off my broom and got the Snitch!"

"I remember," George said grimly. "Can't believe they didn't call it. Snape talked them out of it. The slimy git."

Harry sighed. "What can I do to make sure that doesn't happen again? What's the plan?"

"Don't get knocked off your broom."

Harry smiled. "Haha, very funny."

"We aren't kidding this time. Don't let Malfoy win. It's as simple as that." Fred gave him a wild grin. "And hold on tight to your broom!" He turned to the team. "All right then! Let's go win a cup, shall we?" he said, as if suggesting a stroll around the block.

The Slytherin team was already assembled in the stadium. They exchanged jeers and glares with the Gryffindor team. Malfoy strode up to Harry.

"So Potter," he said easily. "Ready to lose?"

"The only loser here is you, Malfoy."

"Is that so?" Draco said, stepping closer with a menacing glare. "I'd hold onto my broom stick, Potter. Sometimes the air...shifts. Sometimes things change. Sometimes your grip on things loosens, just a little bit. The slip is hardly noticeable but that doesn't mean it isn't there. I have good eyes, Potter. I notice things other people don't. You lose your balance, you start to slip. And when you start spinning out of control, I promise you I'll be there."

"Get away from our Seeker, Malfoy!" George spat hotly, suddenly noticing the two. They were standing quite close, faces mere inches from touching. 

"Of course, Weasley," Draco said with a smile. He stepped away from Harry and mounted his broom. Harry did the same. There was a whistle and suddenly they were all shooting skyward, a blur of color, robes flaring. 

The Seekers generally soared a good distance away from the rest of the game, anxiously searching for the Snitch. Harry reached this space first but Draco was not far behind him. Harry tried to catch the other Seeker's eye for over half an hour but Draco did not even look at him. He was all business, staring studiously at the world below them, scanning for the Snitch. No matter how hard Harry tried, he could not meet Malfoy's gaze. He was angry that he had not been able to return Draco's threat... 

Was that what it was? A threat? _When you start spinning out of control, I promise you I'll be there. _ It didn't sound so much like a threat now that it was echoing in Harry's mind. It sounded like an...oath. No. That didn't make any sense? An oath of what?

Pay attention, Harry! Biggest game of the year, right here, right now. This is what he wanted, you know, you're falling into his trap. Don't let his words get to you. NEVER let his words get to you. 

But his words _were_ getting to Harry. Only forty minutes into the game and suddenly Draco was spiraling downwards like a deadly bird of prey. Harry caught what he saw moments after, a tiny flicker of golden light lancing off of a small object. Anyone besides a Seeker would have passed it off as a stray ray of sunlight, a wristwatch catching the gaze of the sun. However Harry was specially adept at recognizing the consistent flicker of the object zooming across the sky, could catch the patterns of light as this object traveled along its inane route. It was the Snitch. And Draco was heading right for it. 

Harry smiled grimly to himself. Sorry Malfoy, buddy. Not happening. 

Harry soared after Draco, swooping in for the Snitch. However Draco was moving too swiftly, had gotten too much of a head start. Harry's mind told him that there was no earthly way he could catch up to the Slytherin Seeker. 

No earthly way indeed.

Harry reached for his wand. 

"_Strigo_," Harry muttered, pointing at Draco's broom. It stopped in midair, as if frozen. Draco stared at it in disbelief, then turned to Harry. Quickly Harry broke the spell and Draco's broom, no longer paralyzed, began speeding through their air once more. However the time the spell had given was enough to allow Harry to almost catch up with Malfoy. Of the two Harry was the better flyer and he was soon flying directly next to Malfoy. Draco twisted his head to look at him. He shook his head, a smile on his lips.

"Little Harry Potter, cheating?" he said, and zoomed ahead with a burst of speed. "Ah, no! Has he finally grown up? Has he decided to play the game the real way now?" 

Harry began gaining on him. For a second Draco looked back at him and Harry, feeling pleased with himself, smiled sweetly. His smile quickly vanished however as Draco pointed his wand at him and muttered under his breath.

Harry's broom started spinning in circles. He urged it to go forward and it went backwards. He urged it to go up and it went down.

"Bastard," Harry muttered after Draco. Draco had sped a great distance ahead and, as a result of his concentration on the Snitch, the spell had faded. With another burst of speed Harry flew along. Draco was shocked to find, mere moments later, the Gryffindor Seeker flying next to him once more.

"You're a fast flyer, Potter," Draco said. "But I think that just maybe I'm faster."

Harry could see that Draco's broom was building to what promised to be a swift pace that Harry's broom might not be able to match. As Draco began to gain Harry grabbed the other's seeker's robe, holding him back. Draco shifted suddenly, slightly off balance on his broom. It was all Harry needed. 

He grabbed the boy by his shoulder and pulled him close. 

"You lose your balance," Harry whispered coolly into Draco's ear, "you start to slip."

He shoved Draco away from him so hard that Draco's hands fell from his broom and he and his broom both began plummeting rapidly downward.

"And when you start spinning out of control," Harry called after him, "I promise you I'll be there!"

He saw the Snitch glinting at him, not too far below. He dove for it. Yes, that's it Harry, almost there...

Suddenly he was jerked back with such force that for a moment he could not move his neck. He heard a rip. When he forced himself to turn he was not at all surprised to find Draco there, holding onto Harry's robe. He had torn part of the back.

"How dare you, Potter," he said, seething with anger. "How dare you throw my own words back at me like that." 

"They're just words, Malfoy," Harry said with a grim smile. "They mean nothing." 

Harry watched as Draco's eyes narrowed. They looked, Harry thought, like jagged ice. 

"I see," Draco said slowly. "You don't want to play it like that."

"Oh?" Harry said with a surprisingly mocking laugh. "How do I want to play it then?"

"Like this." Draco punched Harry squarely in the jaw. Harry's broom shook. When his vision cleared he saw Draco, tumbling below, heading for the snitch. 

He soared after him and attempted to deliver a blow to Malfoy's face. Draco ducked, but not quickly enough and Harry's fist connected with the side of his head. Draco let out a strangled cry in pain. He quickly restrained it and headed after Harry who was moving in on the Snitch. He came at the other boy from behind. 

"Element of surprise, Potter," Draco whispered. "Never underestimate it." These words had barely reached Harry's ears before Draco threw his arms around the other seeker's neck and began to strangle him.

"What the devil is going on up there?" Professor McGonagall muttered. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had soared so high up that they could barely be made out. They had become two dormant dots in the sky. This was highly unusual as Seekers generally never stopped moving and were simply spiraling figures throughout the game. Harry and Draco had remained in relatively the same place for far too long. 

"Should we stop the game and see what's going on?" McGonagall asked, turning to Professor Dumbledore. His eyes were squarely on the two Seekers up above, his expression unreadable.

"No, no," Dumbledore said finally. "Just send someone up there to determine what's wrong. We don't want to disrupt the other players." 

McGonagall went to get Madam Hooch.

~~~

Let...go of me..." Harry managed. Draco's hands were still firmly enclosed around Harry's neck. The Snitch had been long forgotten. 

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Draco asked calmly. "Words mean nothing, after all."

Harry's elbow shot back into Draco's ribs. Draco winced and weakened his grip on Harry enough for him to escape. He turned angrily on Draco.

"You," Harry said, glaring. His green eyes snapped like a crackling flame and for a second Draco just watched, mesmerized. He had always been mesmerized by fire. 

Something in Draco's gaze caught Harry off balance but he quickly regained his train of thought. "Who do you think you are?" Harry demanded. "You boss people around, intimidate them into bending to your every whim, every-"

"-desire." Draco smiled. "Yes, I get it, Potter. But what about you, hm? You play the godly saint now but did you see yourself before? Did you see the anger in your eyes? The restlessness?" He grinned. "Now look at you. Acting like none of that existed, pretending in your head that you don't have any of those instincts in you, none of that restlessness for fear, danger..."

Harry tried to shove him off his broom but Draco easily avoided his hands. 

"You're putting on this righteous act," Draco continued, "in order to put yourself in a better light. You want that spotlight on yourself, glorifying you, perfecting you. And me? You want me hidden, cloaked in shadow." Draco shook his head. "Not gonna work this time, Potter. There's no other world here, no teachers fawning over you, no students asking for your autograph. Just you and me, exactly as we are, no interference. Up here in the sky, alone, there's no shadow to cover me but yours. And I'm not gonna let that happen." 

"You're right," Harry said distantly. "Up here in the sky we are alone. Up here in the sky we're equals. But down there, in the real world? You are scum. And I'm not. And that's what it comes down to, Malfoy." 

Draco threw another punch but Harry was ready, had been setting Draco up for this. He caught the boy's fist and then lunged at him. He jumped onto Draco's broomstick and delivered another punch before Draco grabbed Harry's wrist and stopped him. They were both standing on the same broomstick, precariously balanced amongst the clouds. Harry's broomstick hovered there as if It were not quite what to do with itself. 

"This what you wanted, Potter?" Draco muttered. "You wanted to take your anger out on me? Or is it something more?" He lips turned up in a smug smirk. "Is it that you need danger? Is it that you've had no challenges this year?" 

Draco shook his head, his eyes never leaving Harry's.. "There's been nothing for you here at Hogwarts. Nothing that made your blood run cold and nothing that made your blood boil. You're sick of it, aren't you? Wandering through life like a lost soul, no sense of purpose and, more importantly no thrills, no excitement. Nothing is strong enough to give you the sense of danger you need, Potter, the thrill you've become accustomed to. Nothing terrifies you anymore." Draco suddenly turned intense, darkened slightly, and Harry watched as the ice in his eyes grew colder, sharper. "And I'm the only one who can give you that sense of danger, aren't I?"

Harry regarded him for a moment. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Draco's, urgently, persistently. He grabbed the Slytherin by the shoulders, pulled Draco to him roughly, felt the roughness of the other's cheek. His face was pushed close against Draco's and he could feel Draco's eyebrows arch in surprise. The kiss grew deeper and Harry pushed Draco further and further along the broomstick until the other boy nearly lost his balance and, for a moment, faltered. The moment of space between their lips was enough for Harry to suddenly see himself clearly. 

Draco looked up at him, one hand on the broomstick, steadying himself. For once he was silent. 

They stared at each other for a long moment. Harry saw Draco's eyes change. The glassy blue ice-like quality was, for a moment, completely mirror-like. Harry could not see Draco but only himself, staring back through a blue shield. He looked weak and confused and he hated it. 

At a loss for words, Harry shoved Draco again. Draco did not move for a moment, just stared at Harry in incredulous disbelief. His lips were quivering as if he was about to laugh. However after a moment he shoved Harry back, threw a punch and Harry did the same in turn. They continued like this, continued the offbeat dance that neither was willing to stop. Perhaps it was because the music would not end. 

As they continued fighting their steps grew faster and faster, until it seemed as if they were really dancing. _Now_ they truly were both spinning out of control. It seemed nothing would come to stop them, cease the music and bring them out of the sky. 

Someone did. 

"Harry Potter! Draco Malfoy! Stop this, _this instant_."

Madam Hooch was hovering below the two boys. For a moment she could not say anything else. How strange it was to watch them fight in the air like this. They moved with a graceful liquid ease. The fighting seemed almost choreographed, as if each boy already knew what the other would do, knew how the other moved and thought. 

Which, Madam Hooch reminded herself severely, was silly, of course. This was not an art form! This was just two boys hideously disobeying the rules as, Madam Hooch thought, teenagers were apt to do. She blew a whistle around her neck and it echoed shrilly. Startled, the two looked at her in surprise. Draco almost lost his balance and Harry gripped his shoulder before he fell. Draco glanced up at Harry as if he was not sure what to think of this gesture.

"What is it you think you're doing?" Madam Hooch demanded. "Is this some sort of _game_, pray tell?"

_Yes,_ Harry thought, _ that's exactly what it is._ But he remained silent.

"Get back on your broom, Potter," Madam Hooch snapped. 

Harry's broom was floating listlessly above Harry's head. Harry pulled himself up onto it, lifting himself from Draco's broom. He sighed, trying to act ashamed of himself, as he knew he should be. He looked down. It was a far way to look. Harry was faintly surprised at how high they had gotten. 

They began silently descending back to earth. There was quite a small crowd gathered, waiting to meet them. At the head of it was Professor McGonagall. She was livid.

"Harry Potter!" she shrieked. Harry froze. Professor McGonagall, while severe, was also one of the biggest Quidditch fans around. On the Gryffindor team, one did not try to win simply for the sake of winning, one tried to win so they were not forced to avoid all contact with McGonagall until it was time to play the next game.

Harry was already perfecting this skill. He quickly looked away. McGonagall was not so easily avoided this time, however.

"_What_ on _earth_ were you _doing_ up there?" She was still shrieking. "Hm?! Were you and Malfoy discussion _poetry_?! Attempting to solve world _hunger_?"

"Er," Harry said, "not quite."

"_What_ in heaven's _name_ was going _on_ up there then?!"

"_Perhaps_ we were all _trying_ to talk like _this_," Draco muttered. 

Harry hid a smile.

"What was that, Malfoy?!" McGonagall screeched.

"Nothing, Professor."

McGonagall finally turned to Madam Hooch. "Tell me what you saw," she demanded.

"They were fighting, Professor," Hooch said respectfully, as if she for a moment was fearing a detention or something of the sort. 

"Arguing?"

"No, physically...fighting."

"In the sky?!" McGonagall cried incredulously.

"Yes," Madam Hooch said, as if she didn't quite believe it herself. "And they were doing it quite... well."

"Well," Dumbledore said proudly, "they _are_ two of the best Seekers in Hogwarts history."

"Headmaster, I mean all the respect in the world, of course," McGonagall said in a tone that suggested she meant anything but, "however, pride is not the issue!"

"Oh, I quite agree, Professor," Dumbledore said, eyes betraying the smile he was hiding. "Still, it's rather impressive."

"Be that as it may," Madam Hooch said, "this is still some of the most outlandish behaviour that I have seen in all my years of teaching."

"What do you suggest we do?" McGonagall asked.

"Expel them from the game," Madam Hooch said simply. "Potter, as you well know you were being considered for captain next year. That decision will be put into question. Malfoy, the same goes for you."

"But the game can't go on without our Seekers," McGonagall said nervously. 

"Surely there must be some other way," Dumbledore said.

"I suppose they could continue playing... As long as this fighting business does not start up again, do you hear me?" Hooch said sharply. "Hm?!"

Harry and Draco nodded mutely. 

"And of course," McGonagall said, "they will naturally be punished most severely. The championship game is NOTHING to be sneezed at and you both shall pay the consequences! A daily detention for say, a month or two, that should do it, I think. Headmaster?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said sternly. 

"Very well," said Professor McGonagall with a severe stare for Harry and Draco. "You shall be allowed to return to the game. Don't just stand there staring! Go!"

Both fifth years took to the air, exchanging not a word. On his way up Harry saw Fred and George scowling profusely at him. He understand why they were angry. He had had several chances to get the Snitch and he had successfully managed to miss them all. Oh well. He wouldn't miss such a chance again. Never again. 

He looked at Draco who was scanning the sky, avoiding Harry's gaze once more, in his own world. 

Never again. 

Harry concentrated on the sky. He saw the Snitch, speeding towards him. Lucky. Harry reached out his hand and flew to meet it. It fell into his palm and he closed his fist over it, letting out a cry in triumph. Almost immediately his team surrounded him.

They had won. 

Harry should feel victorious now. He should feel glory. He felt nothing.

Out of the corner of his eyes, over the roar of the crowd, Harry saw the Slytherin team skulking off. Draco was looking back at Harry, an unreadable stare etched on his face. For a moment his eyes did that strange change again, that change where they suddenly gained the clarity of a mirror and Harry could see himself perfectly, reflected in Draco's gaze.

No. No. No more mirror-gazing, no more. He knew who he was. He knew what he looked like. He did not need Draco to show him.

Ginny ran up to him as he reached the ground. She threw her arms around him and kissed him. 

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed looking at his face. "You're bruised... What happened up there, Harry? Between you and Malfoy? You were both so high up, even our binoculars could barely make you out." 

Harry didn't answer. He was staring at the sky.

"Harry?" Ginny said, growing more concerned. "What happened?"

He looked back at her, met her gaze. Her eyes were dark, like his, unclear and murky. He could not see himself so easily in them and he was glad. 

Never again Malfoy, Harry thought, looking toward Draco's retreating figure. 

Never again.


	2. Moments After

_"Swimming through the void  
We hear the word  
We lose ourselves  
But we find it all"  
-Aerials, System of a Down _

Chapter 2: Moments After

I don't think I can love him. 

It's summer.

I'm at Malfoy Manor. I hate it here. The rooms are stuffy and the servants lie to you. Father is horrible to the servants. He makes them smile. They come into my room and draw the curtains and smile to me and say good morning but I know really that they mean none of it, that they're thinking of their measly paycheck and of Father's menacing glare. Not that I blame them. He's paying them, after all, and insincerity is worth a lot these days. Sincerity is worth even more but nobody seems to have enough guts to pay for it. I know I don't. Mostly.

Sometimes I think maybe I might risk it, might have the balls to say what I mean and mean what I say. I wouldn't intimidate others with lies. I wouldn't glare at those I deem beneath me, wouldn't use sarcasm as a dagger to cut at those I love and hate. I would be honest. I would smile, genuine real smiles. I would be happy, the kind of happiness that stems from your own behavior, rather than the behavior of those around you. For a moment the world is full of new choices. 

I _could_ be all those things. I _could_ be someone different. Weak. Scared. But happy, oddly satisfied in being able to walk down Hogwarts halls without eyes of others sliding away from mine in avoidance. People looking at me, really looking at me, without fear. Silent gazes shyly meeting mine, offering a pure unguarded look in the other's eyes. Yes, for a moment all of this seems like it could truly happen, like I could know the real eyes of many. It is a moment full of possibilities, that of which I have never seen. These moments occur only when I'm looking at the eyes of one boy.

Guess who he is. 

Right.

And then I look away and everything is as it was and I'm safe again. The eyes of others are shrouded. The world is normal and nothing is shifting and I'm on solid ground once more, ground that I grew up on. That's why I try to look away. Sometimes, people act like possibilities are good things. Not always. Possibilities lead to choices, choices I could never make. And so, to avoid such a situation, I try to look away. I break my gaze with his for my own well-being. 

Don't call me a coward. Really, it has nothing to do with cowardice. It has to do with expectations and preconceptions. I must play up to my part, not lose myself in a sea of muddled lines and endless eyes and damned choices over what is good and bad, right and wrong. It has to do with this damn facade that I'm forever stuck in, this act, this performance. And over dramatic as it may be, the curtains are never going to close, not until the day I die. 

I pray that there'll never be an encore.

He told me once that he wanted us to change. He said he prayed to the stars every night that everything between us would go away. Like magic. Hogwarts is full of magic, maybe it'll happen. 

He was always hoping for things to change. He told me that too. I never wish for things to change because every time I try, I instead remember how the world looked through his eyes. His world is simple and straightforward and people were good. Even after all the time he's spent with me, the Cynic, he still believes that the smiles of others are real, that sincerity is free. 

He lives in a world that I can't imagine. Believe me, I've tried. It's a world I'll never belong to, because even when I knock on the door, they never let me in. 

So I look through the window instead. It's just my horrible luck that the window happened to be in the eyes of a boy named Harry Potter. 

~~~ 

It was resounding, the shouts of Hogwarts staff and students. Draco could not hear the shouts but he could see them, echoing in the ears of his fellow Slytherin players. There was something else resounding in Draco's mind. Disgust, he thought, and hatred. Hatred that drowned out the sound of everything else around him. 

He turned back, looked at Harry Potter. He was with the Weasley girl. Well that wasn't any surprise. Ginny was tenderly touching the bruises on Harry's face, asking him what had happened. 

"Nothing, Gin. Malfoy, that's all. Being his usual self. He tried to knock me off my broom again." 

Draco turned away. He slowly began to follow the rest of his teammates. 

"But he didn't!" came the Weasley girl's voice, floating towards him mockingly, veiled in sweetness. "You got him in the end. You won, Harry!" She giggled. "You look stunned. Don't you realize what has happened?" 

The Slytherin team went back to the locker room to change back into their school robes. Draco stared emotionlessly at his hands, the Quidditch match playing in his head over and over again, painfully slow motion inserting itself into all the particularly humiliating parts. The team eventually filtered out of the locker room. Draco remained. Finally, quietly, Draco changed out of his Quidditch robes and put away his broom. 

"Next year," he told it. "Don't worry. Next year, the championship will be Slytherin's." 

"It better be," a voice said darkly. 

Draco whirled around. "Dad!" he said in shock. "What are-" 

"I came to watch the game, son, naturally," Lucius Malfoy said. "I came to...cheer you on." 

"How nice of you," Draco snapped. 

"I thought so myself." Lucius smiled. "But I'm rather disappointed. In fact," Lucius took a deep breath, "very disappointed. Draco, I have bought you the best in brooms. I have given you the best in Quidditch instructors." 

Draco waited. He crossed his fingers, hoping that Lucius would erupt, would tell him off. 

"It's interesting," Lucius said very softly, "how you choose to repay me. Very interesting." 

Draco sighed. Quiet anger was the most dangerous kind with his father, and so he chose his words with the utmost care. 

"You bastard, I didn't ASK for Potter to catch the Snitch! I didn't ASK to lose the damn game! Don't make me feel guilty for losing! I tried my best and-" 

"Perhaps you should have tried better than that!" Lucius said. "You should have done whatever it takes! It came down to you and Harry Potter. You caved, Potter won. What if that happened on a-" Lucius suddenly went silent. 

Draco nodded wearily. "What if that happened on a mission for Voldemort, you were about to say? You worry that if I... have to do things for Voldemort, I won't do them?" 

"I worry that if it comes between you and Potter you'll become intimidated by our little hero and back out." Lucius stepped closer. "I need to know," he whispered, "that on or off the Quidditch field you will do whatever it takes to _win_." 

"Why are you really here, Father?" Draco said. "And no bull about wanting to watch the game. I know you better than that." 

"But you always were a clever boy, weren't you?" his father said fondly, suddenly rid of all his intensity and filled again with fatherly love. He tousled Draco's hair. "Yes, you really are intelligent, I don't see why you're not at the top of _all_ your classes. I hear a Mudblood is still ranking first in your year at Hogwarts now. Crazy business, that. You mustn't allow it, my boy! If those Muggles get it into their heads that they're better than us...well, it'll make showing them otherwise far more _painfully_ difficult, for both parties." 

"Why are you here?" 

"I wanted to look at your school grounds. I've heard that the maintenance on Hogwarts has not been up to standard in the least. But then, what do you expect with a beast like Hagrid taking care of things? I was going to file a complaint with Dumbledore but it seems that _technically_ there is nothing wrong with the place. So, as it turns out, my little inspection was a fruitless one." 

"Father, I want the truth." 

"And I gave it to you. Just now. I wasn't even going to tell you about it, in fact I was planning to leave as if I had never come but...well, I saw the end of that game and I had to express my disappointment in you." 

"Ah. Yes. Humiliate me further before leaving, can't pass that one up." 

"Honestly, Draco, what has gotten into you? We give you everything you want, your mother and I do. We ask for only a little in return. Win a Quidditch game here and there. Get good grades. Bring a bit of _honour_ to the family, for God's sake." 

No way of getting out of this one. "I will, Father," Draco drawled. 

"I mean, is that really so much to ask?" 

"No, Father. If only Dumbledore wasn't such a mudblood-lover I'd be at the top of all my classes." 

"_And_ would win all my Quidditch games," Lucius prompted. 

"And would win all my Quidditch games." 

"Good. Right then, I'd better be off." 

"You're sure you have...nothing else to tell me, Father?" Draco asked respectfully. 

"Nothing for you to worry yourself about, my boy," Lucius said briskly. "At least, not yet." 

Without another word he walked out. 

"Good bye," Draco called bitterly after him. He fled to his dorm and slammed the door behind him. It helped, but only a little. 

~~~ 

"Help me! Someone help me, please..." Harry heard the desperate plea. His head shot up and he ran to the source of the cry. 

It was Neville. He was kicking at his suitcase. 

"Help!" he said again. "This thing-" _Kick_. "-won't close." _Kick_. Spotting Harry he looked up quickly. "Oh, hullo Harry." 

"Need any help?" 

"Yes," Neville admitted gratefully. Harry glanced down at the suitcase. 

"Might help if you folded some of the clothes..." 

Neville looked at him blankly. 

"Or not," Harry said. He shoved a few objects further into the suitcase. 

"So," Neville said cheerfully as Harry wrestled with the suitcase, "marvelous game, the other day! Knew you'd win, of course," he added. 

"Thanks," Harry said. "Where's Ron?" 

"Studying, he told me." Neville's brow furrowed. "But exams, O.W.L.s, all that is over." 

"Ah," Harry said. "Means he's with Hermione." 

"Oh," Neville said. "That makes sense. How's it been with you? You and Ginny? She's awfully nice." 

"It's been good." Harry finally managed to shut the suit case. "There you go, Neville." He smiled. "Have a good vacation." 

"You too, Harry. Thanks." 

Harry went back to his bed, and began halfheartedly putting things away into his own suitcase. He didn't want to leave Hogwarts, not at all and life with the Dursleys, that was never fun either. But part of him was glad to be going. He needed to get away. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy being at Hogwarts it was only that... He felt odd here sometimes. His own skin felt strange lately, as if he didn't belong in it. Perhaps he never had. 

It was Malfoy. Had to be. What he had done the other day to Malfoy, that couldn't have been by his own will. Right? Malfoy must have done something. _Someone_ must have done something. There was nothing inside of Harry, nothing at all, that would ever for a second consider doing something like that. Nothing. 

Icy grey eyes. Looking at them, a chill had run through Harry. Yes, an actual chill, like some cliched line in a poem, and when it had passed he had been consumed in flames. He saw it perfectly in his mind's eye, saw the flames part for a split second, saw Draco looking back at him, and yes, Harry had leaned forward and he had done it. He had kissed Draco Malfoy. 

That was the worst part. It had been no demon, no monster, no spell. Harry had made a decision. He could lie to himself all he wanted. Deep down he felt the truth at its core. Harry had not been overcome with desire. Lust had not taken over. 

He had lost himself. And then when the fire parted and he saw Malfoy there, he met him, reached out to touch him as if the ice in his eyes would counteract the fire. During the flood of sensations that followed his lips had been torn from Malfoy's. At this sudden change, Harry had looked into the other boy's eyes once more and in one pure exquisite moment, found himself. 

That had been the moment that had truly set Harry's heart pounding. That had been the moment when Harry had felt his need for Malfoy meet a crescendo. 

It was not the kiss itself that stood out in Harry's mind. It was the moments _after_. 

They had fought. It felt wonderful. Never had Harry felt so confident, never had he moved so gracefully, Draco easily matching his grace. And yes, there was pain as Draco's fist slammed into his chin, but it was all so far away. The pain did not matter, all that mattered was the movements they were both carelessly caught up in, and the voice in Harry's head saying yes, this is the way it was always supposed to be. 

It had ended. Music stops and even the softest notes end abruptly. Their note ended in the shrill pitch of a whistle. 

And then the world had righted itself. Harry had touched ground and again there were boundaries and lines and shadows that could not exist in the sky. 

"Er, Harry?" It was Neville. He tilted his head at Harry, who was staring at his suitcase, unmoving. He looked very pale. 

"Harry?" Neville said again, more loudly. "I, er, forgot to pack a few objects y'see, and I was wondering if you could maybe open the sui-" 

"Sorry, gotta go," Harry said suddenly. He pushed past Neville and made for the door. 

"But Harry, the term is almost over! You're not even packed!" 

"See you later," Harry called back, breaking into a run. 

Neville watched him go, puzzled. 

~~~ 

Draco had a good deal of suitcases to pack and, thinking ahead, had packed most all of them the day before. With unusual foresight, he had predicted that he would need a bit of time alone, away from the demands of the Slytherin house. He stood alone now on the Quidditch field. It was not a cloudless day, as he had hoped for. In fact, it was rather rainy and there were plenty of clouds gracing the sky. You didn't always get the days you hoped for. 

He heard footsteps behind him. 

"Potter," he said, not turning around. He knew. He heard the other boy's footsteps come to a halt behind him. They were silent. 

"How did you know I'd be here?" Draco asked finally, voice cold. 

"I didn't," Harry said. "I was just hoping." 

"For what, exactly?" 

"That..." Harry faltered. "That you'd be here. I guess." 

Draco turned. "Lucky guess," he said quietly. He sounded bitter. 

"Were you hoping I'd find you?" 

"Yes." 

They were silent. 

"I hate you, you know," Harry said suddenly. 

"Yes." 

"That's it? Yes? Come on, surely you have something more to say?" 

And they kissed again. It was long and lasting and full of tears that could not manifest. It was full of hatred. When they pulled away both boys were breathing hard. 

Draco laughed suddenly. "Well, that's it then, isn't it?" he said. "That's it for the summer." 

"I hope so." 

Again, Draco laughed. "That's a funny thing to say. If you feel that way, why'd you come here?" 

"I wanted to. I wanted this one last time. Because you know what? This _is_ the last time." He shook his head. "I can't do this, Malfoy. I don't _want_ to do this." 

"This has nothing to do with what we want, Potter," Draco snapped. "It has to do with what we need." 

"I don't need you. I will never need you." 

"And you think I need you? My, the Gryffindor house sure does wonders for the ego, doesn't it?" 

"I don't care if you need me or not," Harry said. God, why _had_ he come here? Why had the remembrance of a world with no boundaries and constrictions suddenly sent him running? Running to _Draco Malfoy_ for God's sake. "This is it, okay?" And suddenly his voice was harsh, heated. "Whatever you thought about me, it isn't true. Whatever you feel for me, get rid of it! And I will do the same for you. I just came here to tell you that." 

"A dramatic good bye," Draco said softly. 

"You call this good bye?" Harry said, with an amused smile. "Didn't even know we said hello." 

"Listen Potter," Draco growled. "This isn't how it's supposed to go. You didn't come here to-" 

"Yes. I did." 

"You can't stop something that hasn't even begun!" 

"No, you can't," Harry agreed. "But you can prevent it. That's what I'm doing. I have...too much to lose, Malfoy. Self-respect for one thing." 

Draco gave a little chuckle. Harry plowed ahead before Malfoy got a chance to comment. 

"There's my friends, too. They hate you almost as much as I do." 

"Really? Do all your friends express hate like you do? 'Cause that might be rather fun..." 

Harry ignored him. "And there's Ginny." 

Draco nodded as if he had been waiting for this. "The Weasley girl. A perfectly matched couple, the two of you are. You _look_ as if you're right for each other. But looks can be deceiving, can't they Potter?" 

Harry said nothing so Draco continued. 

"After all, you both appear to be brave, kind people. Sure, there's the ego the size of England, but still...You're both decent. You look out for her and in return you have her full glowing admiration. You both are friends with the same bedraggled group. Really, one would think that you and Ginny were full of similarities that practically guaranteed you an obstacle free walk through lover's lane. But people often think wrong though, don't they, Potter?" 

"Listen, Malfoy, I didn't come here to be lectured by you on my relationship with Ginny." 

"Shut up. You're interrupting because you don't want me to get to the part you know is true. The fact is, there's a difference between you and Ginny, a huge one that will prevent the two of you from ever truly coalescing." 

"And what might that be?" Harry said snidely, curious despite himself. 

"She's the real thing. _And you're only pretending_." 

Harry knew he should leave then and there. But he stayed, watching Draco with something of interest. "What are you saying, Malfoy?" 

"I'm saying," Draco said with his trademark drawl, "that the Weasley girl truly means well. She wants," Draco waved his hand airily, "oh, I don't know, puppies for Christmas and flowers on Valentine's day. She wants safe love, the kind that comes in sweetly-scented bottles. She wants the kind of love that has boundaries and fences to keep one from accidentally ascending to the stars. Most importantly, she wants happy endings, and she wants these endings to be achieved with as little terror as possible. Whereas you..." 

Draco stepped closer to Harry. When Harry didn't move, he grabbed him by his robe and pulled him closer. He looked at Harry calmly, silver eyes sweeping over him. Harry was suddenly aware of their closeness, the stormy scent of Draco's skin, the sturdy grip of his fist which had gathered up some of the cloth of Harry's robe. He didn't _want_ to be aware of it but Harry's mind seemed to care very little for what he wanted. 

"You embrace the pain," Draco said. If he felt anything he hid it well. "You embrace the terror. Deny it if you want, Potter, you'll never fool me. Go on, try to cover the truth up, pass it off as your chivalrous duty to fight evil. After all, maybe at first that's what it really was. You were doing it all, fighting Voldemort, saving the world, because some silly part of your brain thought it was the 'right' thing to do. You thought it was your job." Draco paused. "But there was a mutation, am I right? A twist. Suddenly you started _liking_ it." 

Harry tried to say something but he couldn't. His throat had closed up. 

"You didn't realize at first," Draco continued. "You heroic types are always a bit slow when it comes to these things. You only sensed it, sensed that you might have grown attached to the danger once the danger wasn't there. Suddenly, you're safe again. Peaceful. And now that you are, you miss being scared. You miss running and hiding. Most of all you miss that moment when you're found. You miss the moment of confrontation, that single moment when you feel most alive. The fear and the danger and the agony collide into one glistening moment of truth. 

"And suddenly you're not putting on an act for anyone. You know, in that single moment, exactly who you are and you know that you are something great. Powerful. You also know that when the moment passes you'll be normal again. Unremarkable. Average. And it's _that_ feeling of truth in who you really are that you miss the most." Draco smiled at Harry's frown. "Don't worry, Potter, I feel the same way." 

"I _don't_ feel that way!" Harry said, finding his voice. "I never have. All I've wanted my whole life was to be normal! Safe." 

"Oh yeah? You lived with muggles, didn't you? Can you honestly say you didn't want power? Can you honestly say you weren't _bored_?" 

"I'm a wizard, Malfoy. That's who I was, that's who I am, that's who I'll always be. To me, that is normality. Are wizards not powerful? Being normal doesn't mean you're without power, it doesn't mean you're bored. It means that you can continue life uninterrupted, without any sense of deadly danger about you. Your life no longer revolves around fear, simply because you don't enjoy being terrified, you don't enjoy the danger." 

"Don't tell me _you_ don't enjoy it, Potter." 

"I don't." 

"Then why are you here?" 

Harry was silent. Draco nodded. 

"It's called a last resort, Potter," Draco said, and pressed cool lips to Harry's for one long moment. "And I'm it." 

He shoved Harry from him and walked away, leaving the Gryffindor boy staring after him. 

~~~ 

It had been, Draco thought as he lay in bed that night, a most satisfying good bye. 

Really, he did not think it could have gone better. Harry's reactions, his words, all of it had passed exactly as Draco had wished. _He_ was in control again and Potter knew it. That's how Draco liked it. During the Quidditch game, Potter thought he was calling the shots. Right. Maybe, for one brief moment, he was. It was the worst thing that could have happened, in Draco's mind. He'd never let it happen again. 

He shivered inwardly at the memory. Never had he felt so invincible as he did during the start of that game. The adrenaline had been pumping through his veins, he was flushed from his eerily graceful physical fight with Potter. And then, for one moment, he was winning. Words of truth were spilling easily from his lips. He was confidant, poised. 

And Potter had been freaked. He was staring at Draco with dread, with fear. It was the fear Draco had wanted Harry to feel, the fear you get from knowing that your enemy knows you better than you know yourself. It was going splendidly. 

And then Draco had shattered it all with one simple sentence. 

_"I'm the only one who can give you that sense of danger, aren't I?"_

He had meant it as a threat, a challenge. He had thought that those words that would shake Potter, make him afraid. He thought those words would be the final blow. Scared, Potter would lose control. Boom. Draco'd win the game. 

Instead, Harry had started staring at him with something else. Draco could see something like realization dawning in the other boy's green eyes. Harry was frighteningly beautiful in that moment. Draco's breath had halted. It was as if they had without warning switched places. Now it was Potter who was standing there confidently, Potter who was slowly and silently analyzing Draco with his eyes. 

Then Harry Potter kissed him and with the kiss Draco's confidence drained away. Had he felt confident before? It seemed a distant memory as this kiss seemed to strip his soul of its layers, leaving him utterly, utterly vulnerable to all of Potter's wishes. For a second Draco was wracked with fear. Funny how easily fear can turn to desire. Funny how passions swerve and never pay attention the road set out for them or the arrows directing them in their way to go. 

Damn hilarious. He gave himself up to it, responded to their kiss with fervor. 

And then like a little boy overcome with emotion, Draco had stumbled over his own feet and lost his balance. 

He saw it again and again in his mind. The moment between him and Harry was overwhelming, so overwhelming that he had lost his center. He had almost fallen off his broom. 

That had never _ever_ happened before. 

It was that which upset Draco most of all. In losing his center, Draco had lost his the aloofness he held above others. His superiority faltered as he faltered. 

Well, he wasn't going to lose control of this damn thing. If he and Harry were going to crash, Draco wanted to be the one doing the driving. 

It was ghostly in Malfoy Manor. It always was. Draco was glad to be home again. He enjoyed the silent perfection. He enjoyed being with his family, away from those slobbering bunch of morons who awkwardly graced the floors of Hogwarts. Unlike his peers, his mother and father were always respectable. They were always aloof. They never lost their center, like he had. Complete control of their emotions, steel guards on all of their reactions. 

Yes. This was his world, here with people like him. Nothing in his world should ever or would ever consist of what lay in that damned Potter's eyes. After all, what he had saw there? It was just a second of unguarded lust and everyone suffered from those now and then. This was just one that seemed to be nagging at him, that was all. He had upset Potter, rattled him a little. And now it was done and he was home. All games he might have played with Potter's head would cease until school resumed. And, as much fun as playing games with Potter's head was, Draco was glad for this break. 

Inwardly he wondered if it was really Potter who was playing the games with him. 

He crushed that thought before it had time to form. 

Gazing at the moon drifting dreamily through his window, Draco began to feel more relaxed, less jittery. Just as he was falling asleep, he heard a loud rap on his window. 

He sighed and got out of bed. A misdirected owl that was meant for his parents, no doubt. Striding angrily to the window he pulled back the drapes. 

He paused, taken aback. A most beautiful owl was peering in at him quizzically. Truly, it was a magnificent creature. It's white feathers shone with a holy gleam in the moonlight. 

He opened up the window. 

"They're downstairs," Draco informed the owl a bit snappishly, overcoming his initial awe. He rarely got letters and surely such a regal owl was meant for his father. 

Impatient, the owl undid the knot tying the letter to it's leg, picked the letter up in it's mouth, and dropped the letter at Draco's feet. It then glided off into the night. Draco watched as the owl disappeared. 

"Daft thing," he muttered. He glanced down at the white paper envelope at his feet. His eyes widened. There was his name, scrawled lopsidedly across the page. 

He opened up the envelope. 

_ You will never be a resort for me of any kind. I do not need you. I will never turn to you. Don't reply to this letter or try to contact me in any way. Stay away from me and the people I love. Do not for a second think that you have me figured out. _

"Potter," Draco muttered, although the letter was unsigned. He turned it over, half expecting to find bloody stick figures labeled 'Malfoy' on the back, being killed or tortured in numerous stick figure-like ways. However it was blank. 

"Always have to have the last word, don't we, Potter?" Draco murmured to himself. 

He folded the letter and tucked it neatly into a drawer in his desk. 

He wouldn't reply. Yet. 

~~~ 

Summer at the Dursleys was hell. Summer at the Weasleys was heaven. It all, Harry thought as he watched night slowly swallow up the sun, balanced out in the end. 

It had been months since school had ended and in two week he would be back at Hogwarts. _Don't worry about Hogwarts. Live for the now. You're at The Burrow and you're on the Weasleys' porch and everything is peaceful and right._

But apprehension seized him anyway as the thought of Hogwarts and all that lay within it, one boy in particular, ran through his head again. 

The apprehension mostly left him as he felt Ginny slip her arms around his neck from behind. 

"Guess who?" she sung teasingly into his ear. 

"Well," Harry said, "unless Ron got ferociously kicked in the groin and has suddenly gained a pretty high-pitched voice devoid of any testosterone... I'm gonna have to go with...Percy." 

"Such a comedian." 

"A compliment? Well. Has to be Ginny then, doesn't it?" 

"Very good," she told him. He turned. 

"What's my reward?" he asked. 

They kissed. 

This month had been a nice one, Harry thought. It was full of simple pleasures. Family, for truly the Weasleys acted as such for him, and good food, Quidditch games, and Ginny, of course. Like the sunset he was now watching, the month had been tinted with a golden glow. 

"Almost time for dinner," Ginny noted as they pulled away. 

"Yeah." Harry watched intently as the orange rosiness in the sky slowly faded to a royal blue which melted easily to black. The darkness of the night sky swallowed his vision, unlike the pale light from before which had only added weak shadows to those around him. 

"Er, Harry?" Ginny said. "I asked if you wanted to go inside...?" 

"One sec, Ginny." Harry watched as the last patch of sunlight slipped away, giving into the night, which covered Its blazing path with spots of darkness, like a dark sprinkling of snow. 

"_Now_ can we go inside?" Ginny asked. 

Her impatient voice threw him from the intensity of the sky, dropping Harry with a thud onto the petty grounds of earth. 

"Yeah," Harry said. "Sorry, I just wanted to see-" 

The hoot of an owl interrupted him. It landed gracefully at Harry's side and looked pointedly to the letter attached to it's leg. It was labeled _ "To the Boy Who Lived_". 

Slipping the envelope off the owl, Harry tore the parcel open. A quill fell into his lap, along with a letter. 

_Did you really think you could intimidate me, Potter? Sometimes, for a second, I think maybe you really do have a sense of humor. Or is that only wishful thinking? _

If you think you can provoke me into silence, think again. And perhaps think again after that, because you Gryffindors are not known for having much in the way of brains. 

See you soon. 

Malfoy. Naturally. Harry had been surprised he had not replied sooner. Harry had written the original letter in a gesture of spite, however he had not really expected it to provoke Malfoy into silence. Rather, he had thought it would goad the other boy into talking. 

"Who's the letter from?" Ginny queried, watching the varying emotions passing through Harry's eyes. 

"Uh. No one." 

Ginny arched an eyebrow. 

"I mean, I don't know. It's not signed." 

"That's strange," Ginny said. She leaned over to get a better view of the letter. "Can I see?" 

"Er, no," Harry said suddenly. "It doesn't say anything important." 

"Well, let me judge for myself." 

"Gin, I don't think-" 

"Why not? Do you have a secret Swedish lover?" 

"No!" Harry cried defensively. 

"I was just kidding, Harry... Let me see." She reached toward the letter. "Maybe I'll recognize the handwriti-" 

"NO." Harry's voice was loud and commanding. He pulled the letter away. This was highly unnecessary however, as Ginny had pulled away from him swiftly. He saw the sudden hurt in her eyes. Harry reached out to touch her shoulder but she shirked away from his hand. 

In a flash his voice turned gentle. 

"Oh God, Gin, I'm sorry, I didn't meant to yell-" 

"I'm going inside," Ginny said. 

"Ginny, please, I don't want you to be mad at me." 

"I'm not. I'm just going inside." She looked at him. "Are you coming?" 

Harry didn't move. 

"No," Ginny said bitterly, "of course you're not." She opened the door. "See you at dinner then." She walked into the Burrow and closed the door behind her. She did not slam it. Ginny was not the type who slammed doors. But Harry could sense her anger all the same. 

When he was sure she was gone he picked up the quill that had fallen in his lap. Malfoy had provided it for him. He probably knew that Harry would only reply to his letter in the first wave of rage he'd feel after reading it. Once that initial anger subsided, Harry would set to ignoring him. 

Malfoy was right to take advantage of those few precious moments of Harry's unrestrained anger. Taking up the quill, Harry scribbled a reply on the back of Malfoy's letter. He crossed out the previous name addressing the letter to him and replaced it with Draco's. 

The owl that had delivered it waited patiently at his side. Harry reattached the note to the owl, who promptly flew off. 

Harry watched it disappear. Then he walked into the Burrow to apologize to Ginny. 

"I'm not mad," she insisted after he had done so. "Only...lately you've seemed so...I don't know, distracted. You're sure nothing is wrong?" 

"Nothing." 

"And secretive as well. Who was that letter from?" 

"Neville, asking about the assignments we have over the summer. Trust Neville to forget to sign his own name." 

Ginny looked away but said nothing. She didn't believe him. A fleeting guilt ran through Harry. 

No use in telling her the truth, was there though? It would hurt her by getting her angry at Malfoy for trying to intimidate her boyfriend. Harry wanted to _protect_ Ginny from hurt, not be the cause of it. Besides, he was pissed enough at Malfoy for the both of them. 

~~~ 

Draco stared intently out his window that night. Quarter to ten. He had sent the owl at half past five. Seeing the ghostly shape of his owl, Amers, Draco's head shot up. 

The bird swooped in through an open window. Draco rubbed her neck affectionately in thanks before greedily opening the letter. 

_ If I thought I could intimidate you into shutting up, Malfoy, I would have done so long ago. Do you think you've caught me off guard, sending a letter all of a sudden? _

You haven't. 

I remember you told me not to underestimate the element of surprise. 

I won't. 

I'm sure hoping you're having a lovely summer, alone in your mansion. 

It wasn't signed, of course. Draco smiled and picked up the quill that Harry had put back into the envelope. He filled it with more ink and was about to scrawl a reply when Amers, hearing the sound of quill scratching against parchment, set him with a steady glare. 

"Ah, sorry m'girl," Draco said. "You must be tired... Go and hunt. Tomorrow morning you can send this.." 

With a hoot of approval, Amers soared out of Draco's window. 

~~~ 

They continued like that for the rest of the summer, sending letters to and fro. They were brief notes, never longer than three or four paragraphs, if that. The content themselves consisted of mostly jeers, challenges, smug comments. However, between the lines of every letter was packed such an intensity that a roar would come to each boy's ears whenever they spotted the silhouette of Amers, or, when Harry found Amers too tired to make the trip back, Hedwig. They came to know the sight of the other's owl perfectly. Harry grew obsessed with scanning the sky during the day or early evening, whereas Draco would often fall asleep by his window sill, waiting. 

Never once did they ever sign their names. 

Never once did they speak of what had happened between them. Nor did they speak of these short but powerful notes to anyone but each other. The exchange of words between them became rapid. 

And gradually the content of the letters grew more and more serious. 

_ Miss me? _

Of course not, Potter. Bored out there? Need me? 

I never need you. 

You always have. 

Never. 

Always. 

Never. All you do is give me a rush of hatred. 

Maybe that rush of hatred is the only thing that makes you feel alive. 

Maybe I'll only feel alive with you dead. Do I give you that rush? 

Always. 

Do you like it? 

Never. 

Liar. You know you do. 

I hate it. I hate you, Potter. 

After this underlined proclamation, Draco expected a speedy reply. He hoped for it, craved for it. As the usual amount of time passed by, Draco became more and more panicked. Soon, days had passed. Circles appeared under his eyes. Draco couldn't explain why he was upset by such a wait. It felt vaguely as if he had offered a challenge and Potter had refused. Only no, that couldn't be right. Potter would never refuse a challenge, not from Draco. 

He had offered it all. The rush he felt, the need he had. He had offered Potter his hate. Laughter was something he expected, or anger or revenge. Not...silence. Silence, the worst reply of all. As if _he_, Draco Malfoy, wasn't good enough?! 

That was what really cut. It wasn't that something had gone on between them. It wasn't that Draco felt like a lover scorned. He didn't. It was simply that in the last two weeks he had lived for those letters, lived for the flickering thrill they gave him. Heated correspondence with his worst enemy. What could be better? 

And now Harry had said nothing. It was a blatant injury to his pride that cut Draco like a raw and sudden stab to the stomach. 

Silence, ringing louder than all the laughing mockery in the world. Draco covered his ears with his hands. The rush of air around him ceased. He knew he should get some sleep, his sixth year at Hogwarts was starting tomorrow...But there was still the faint glimmering chance that a letter would appear before then. 

Pathetic, a voice in his head told him. You, desperately waiting for a letter from Harry Potter. Is this the shell you've become? 

I need to hear from him. I'm bored, is all. It's fun to get a rise out of Potter. 

You like the way anger looks in his eyes. Like emerald flames. 

No. It's not that. I'm bored. Bored, and this is an idle pastime to waste away the days. 

You know his handwriting perfectly now. You know the way he dots his i's. You know the angle at which his t's are slanted, that perfect downward slant. You keep the letters he sends you in a drawer, like a lovesick puppy. 

I hate him. I told him so myself. 

And see how now, with the sight of his owl casting shadows upon the moonlight, you leap from where you sit, ever faithful, in front of your window? See how your pulse quickens, how suddenly the world's silence does not matter? See how you now tear his letter with such animal ferocity that you cut yourself upon the edge? 

See how you bleed? 

Draco absentmindedly wrapped a tissue around the slim paper cut on his finger as he read the letter. 

His eyes widened. 

_I hate you too, Malfoy. _

Meet me in the luggage compartment tomorrow, on the Hogwarts Express. 

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks muchly to Amalin (no typos on her name this time ^_-) for being a wonderful beta. If you'd like to be notified when I get a new chapter out- http://www.theburrow.com/sky.html .  
Fic can also be read at schnoogle. Thanks to all who managed to review. ^^ 


	3. In the Dark

Chapter 3: In the Dark

The sky became ours.

Mine and Draco Malfoy's. We claimed it. We ruled over it. Or at least, that's what he told me. I know we didn't. The sky to us was nothing more than a land of fallen dreams and nightmares. You can't rule over a dream. It rules over you. It plays with your mind and, once it has had enough, turns into a nightmare. 

The night became ours too. 

We shared it like some cursed treasure. We stalked and ravaged the night together. We wore it's stars like crowns. He'd push me down on the ground and then act surprised when the crown tumbled off. 

Ginny was never like that. Light weaves in and out of her hair like school girl's ribbons. 

She's so happy and carefree and part of me was drawn to that. She thought of me as a hero. Lots of people do, I guess, but it was different for her. I had saved her personally. I had rescued her from Riddle. There was a need for a knight and I fit perfectly into the shining armor. 

I had been feeling kind of useless too. So much was going on in the world, outside of Hogwarts walls. I could practically feel it. Alliances being made, Voldemort growing stronger. The world was getting dark again but there was still light shining at Hogwarts. Any fool could tell this light was not natural, was something artificial and manufactured, in the same way that lamplight feels different from sunlight when it touches your skin. There's a difference and you can _sense_ it. 

Ginny's light was real though, and pure and untouched by darkness. It isn't that she's some epitome of innocence. It's that I thought she _knew_ what true lightness and darkness was and still she chose lightness. She had been there, with Voldemort, caught in his spell. She came out of that experience filled to the brim with golden light that spilled from her eyes. I, on the other hand, always felt darker, heavier after coming one on one with Voldemort. I didn't want that. I wanted to slip out of a fight full of the righteous energy that Ginny always seemed to carry. 

Another, more simple reason for choosing Ginny, was that everyone expected it. Ginny's pretty, fellow Hogwarts students told me, she likes you, Ron's told you he's all right with it, and still you're just standing there dully as if you don't notice because you're too busy chasing after the Snitch and Cho Chang and worrying over beating Draco Malfoy at Quidditch and look what's right in front of you, dimwit! 

I did notice Ginny, though. I noticed there was a light in her and I noticed that I wanted it for myself. I'm selfish like that. 

Ginny and I became an "item" a few months into my fifth year. We were happy, too. You might think, no, he must have been unhappy to stray from someone like Ginny to someone like Draco Malfoy. That's not true. I was not unhappy. Humanity is convinced that happiness is enough. That's the eternal goal, we think, happiness. I have to do this to _be happy._ I have to be with this person to _be happy_. I have to be wealthy, I have to have power, I have to be loved to _be happy_. 

Happiness is not the driving force behind existence. 

Sometimes happiness isn't enough. Sometimes, happiness is just an idealized emotion that you think you should be feeling and so you tell yourself you are. 

And sometimes, happiness is so fleeting that you think you're still feeling it long after it has left you. 

I felt stronger when I was with Ginny, felt my many flaws melt until, in her eyes, I became the ideal hero. . . 

It was never like that with him. In his eyes I was _flawed_. My imperfections were picked apart and analyzed. His eyes are so clear that looking into them you know there can be no illusions. Water blurs the reflection but ice shows the crisp lines and shadows. 

I was not adored in his eyes. I was hated. I was not admired. I was envied. 

Yet still he wanted me. He saw everything in me, and he wanted me. 

Ginny does not see everything in me. She has a blind spot to darkness. After all, when the sun itself so easily wraps around you, darkness cannot be. 

I thought so anyway. I thought that if Ginny shone her light on me, the shadows inside me would go away. The darkness would run from the light. 

Doesn't work like that. 

~~~ 

Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Harry stood collectively in front of the Hogwarts Express. They had said their goodbyes and thank you's to the rest of the Weasleys and were a little surprised to have found the summer over. Ron looked especially woebegone. 

"Here we are again," he said sadly. 

"I, for one," Hermione said, "am glad. I _missed_ school." 

"You would," Ron muttered, giving a meaningful look to the badge Hermione was proudly wearing. "Ms. Prefect." 

"Are you going to ride in a car with the other prefects?" Ginny asked. 

"I don't really care to," Hermione admitted. "I don't know any of them very well. I suspect I'll say hello but join all of you before long." 

"Good," Ron said. He sent a glare to a few passing prefects, upset that they would be depriving him and Hermione from a good deal of reading. 

"You could've been a prefect too, you know," Hermione retorted. "If you and Harry had only broken a few less rules! And of course if you'd been more careful about minding your grades..." 

"Looks like we can board now," Ron said quickly, in an attempt to save himself from a lecture. 

They all watched silently for a few moments, as the train began to load. 

"Feels odd without Fred and George," Harry said. 

They all agreed it did. Fred and George's presence was clearly lacking. They had always filled the silence with an ease that ensured the school year began with laughter. Harry could've used a laugh right then. He was full of feelings of fear, worry, and most disturbingly, anticipation. 

He scanned the sea of bodies filling platform nine and three quarters. He spotted Malfoy, all the way on the other end of the platform but Malfoy either did not see Harry, or simply didn't bother to catch his eye. 

Despite, or perhaps in part of, Ginny's presence Harry grew more anxious as he stepped onto the train. Malfoy, he reminded himself, had never actually agreed to meet him. 

In fact Harry had no idea whatsoever about what Malfoy thought or hoped for, or if Malfoy had even agreed to Harry's request (or was it a command?). 

And that was Harry's own fault really. After all, he had been too afraid to send the letter sooner and Malfoy had had no time to reply. 

_"I hate it. I hate you Potter."_

Harry's heart had raced upon reading those words. His eyes ran over and slowly registered them. The parchment he held felt unreal to his touch. The words, in Malfoy's crisp handwriting, began winking daringly at him. 

Yes, there it was, straightforward as only Malfoy could be. The words were underlined in a raging fit which surprised Harry, as it contrasted greatly with the icy cool persona Malfoy worked so hard to keep up. The heated passion behind the words was so apparent, so strong, that it made Harry's blood freeze in his veins, gave him chills when he repeated the words in his head, yet burnt his hands before he could reach out to crumple the parchment nonchalantly, as he usually did. His pulse quickened yet still deliciously cool chills ran through Harry as he held the letter in his hand. It was, Harry told himself sternly, nothing more than a bold declaration of hate. And yet... 

If this was hatred it was pure loveliness. 

~~~ 

"Shit," Draco muttered as he spotted the hulking forms of Crabbe and Goyle lumbering in his direction. He slunk casually into the shadows, then ducked and ran behind a large group of fifth years, standing next to the Hogwarts Express. He waited a few moments and then dove into the train. 

From a window he saw confusion register on the faces of Crabbe and Goyle. 

Well. Two very large obstacles out of the way for now. Draco had known he would never reach the luggage car if Crabbe and Goyle had spotted him. 

Although it often seemed Draco had Crabbe and Goyle with him all the time for protection, this was not entirely true. Crabbe and Goyle followed Draco aimlessly, no matter where he was headed. Draco gave Crabbe and Goyle the sense of direction they needed. He served as the brains (of which they severely lacked) to their brawn (of which they had in abundance). 

It wasn't that he regretted having them around, Draco thought, slipping silently through compartments in the train and making his way to the very back, where the luggage compartment was. They often proved quite useful to him, cold as that might sound. And they _were_ fiercely loyal, a trait highly valued, especially to a Malfoy. 

Holding his wand ready, Draco kicked open the door of the luggage compartment. The intended drama of this gesture was slightly reduced when the door refused to budge. Realizing it was a sliding door, and feeling a bit embarrassed, Draco slid the door open. 

He was not, Draco thought scanning the filled luggage compartment slowly, avoiding Crabbe and Goyle out of spite. It was simply that at the moment they were the very last people Draco wanted to see. 

He frowned. 

And where was the first? 

~~~ 

"Dad was too busy to see us off to King's Cross. Even too busy to stay around to say goodbye this morning." Ron frowned. 

"Don't be a baby about it," Ginny said. "He was busy is all." 

"But busy doing _what_?" Ron shook his head. "I'm not saying I'm upset that he was too busy... I understand he has an important job and all that. It's just... I want to know what's going on. All summer he's been busy... Hardly ever home. It's strange, is all." 

"I asked him," Hermione said. "Your father. Ministry business, that's all he would say." 

"It's Voldemort," Harry said darkly. His company winced at the name. 

"Now look, Harry," Ginny snapped. "You don't know that." 

"Who else would keep the Ministry on their feet all day? Who else would have them so frantic? No one, not even Percy, gets that upset over illegal magic carpets! It's something that cuts deeper." 

Ron worriedly gazed out the window. "They have seemed very...upset lately. Dad always has circles under his eyes. Lines on his forehead. He's pale. So is Percy." 

"Never quite recovered from that business with Mr. Crouch," Hermione excused. 

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "It's more than that. I'm telling you guys..." And suddenly his words grew more intense. "I didn't want to say anything over the summer, I didn't want to upset you. But...Well, can't you see how anxious everyone is? Hushed voices, strained smiles... It's not normal." 

"What are you implying?" Ginny asked, her mouth becoming a thin line. 

"Well, look at it yourself. The worry, the anxious anticipation, the lack of sleep. . . People can _sense_ it. Everyone who's lived through it before, they know the signs. They know that Voldemort is rising to power!" Harry was growing visibly upset now, _trying_ to convince them of what was happening. It suddenly became terribly important to make them understand how dark things could and would get. 

"They know that unless they act soon they'll be powerless from stopping what happened years ago from repeating," Harry continued. "They're pretending everything is all right for our sakes. But they're also worrying on the fact that if they don't stop Voldemort now, they'll be too late." 

"Oh honestly, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "Don't be so melodramatic." 

"I'm not being melodramatic! Open your eyes. Everything is different. The world _knows_ Voldemort is coming. Your father knows too, Ron. He works for the Ministry. He knows that they'll be in the thick of things, if Voldemort comes to power. He knows that he and his colleagues are the first in line for a great danger. He knows that-" 

But Harry shut his mouth as he saw Ron becoming very pale. 

"Yes," Ron said softly. "I reckon Dad knows that. And I reckon he's right too..." 

Hermione shot a glare to Harry and moved to comfort Ron. 

"Your father is in no such danger," she told him, squeezing his hand. "Listen to me, Ron, You-Know-Who is nowhere close to being a great power again, not with people like your father around." 

She continued comforting him. Meanwhile, Harry noticed Ginny watching him angrily. 

"That was rather tactless," she said quietly when he met her gaze. "The first day of school and already you have to dampen our spirits. Lovely small talk for a train ride, Harry. Summer's over, school's starting, hey, that's depressing enough, but why don't we add to the fun by talking about my dad's impending doom?" 

"Ginny," Harry said, frustrated, "I didn't mean to go so far as saying that Mr. Weasley is... I was just trying to get you all to look around. Sometimes you seem so caught up in your daily life you just don't _notice_ things..." 

"You think I haven't noticed the condition of my own father? You think I'm that _blind_?" 

Maybe. "That's not what I mean. You know that's not what I mean." 

"Tell me what you mean then, Harry," Ginny said, voice hushed but still angry. "I'm all ears." 

"Yes, fine, I'll tell you what I mean! If we don't start preparing ourselves we could end up in some real dangerous stuff..." 

"And isn't that what you've been looking for?" Ginny said. "Oh, never mind. I really think you're being far too paranoid. You sound like Moody, or the impostor Moody in any case. Constant vigilance." 

"Well, maybe he knew what he was talking about! Who knows the potential danger we're in better than a Death Eater?" 

"Stop it, Harry! Just...Stop it! I don't want to hear it. I want to think about...normal stuff. School. Grades. Dances. Stuff that _matters_, things that actually are going to happen! I do _not_ want to hear these...empty theories." 

Empty theories full of truth. Harry sighed. 

"Look, I don't want to quarrel either, okay?" Ginny said finally, after a long moment of uncomfortable silence. 

Harry almost wanted to shout, but I do! He wished that Ginny would get mad at him. He wished that she wouldn't apologize, that the tension could stretch until it broke. 

Sometimes, couples quarreled. Sometimes people fought. Sometimes you _needed_ to say what you had to say. "Yeah," Harry said finally. "Me neither." 

They gave eachother a quick kiss, a brief touch, as if it would mend the anger inside both of them. Hermione seemed to have succeeded in comforting Ron; they were contentedly kissing in the corner opposite Harry and Ginny. They had not even noticed the argument of the other two. "I'm sorry, Harry," Ginny said after a moment, looking up at him sincerely. "That we fought, I mean." 

The sincerity touched Harry. He looked back at her. "Me too, Ginny. I didn't mean to go on like that." 

He had fully meant to go on like that. However, it all seemed inconsequential now. 

They shared a long kiss, warm and tender. For a moment, Harry felt fine, back to his generally non-confrontational self. No longer vehement about the rise of Voldemort, no longer frustrated over the blindness the others had to the changes he sensed all around them, no longer consumed with thoughts of Draco Malfoy, everything seemed maybe okay. What had possessed him to write Malfoy that note, anyway? It was a fleeting urge, that was all. Ginny was _permanent_. Ginny was sweet and good and pretty, of course. He was lucky. People told him so. People did not lie. 

Be happy, he told himself. Be happy. 

"Where's the witch with the food cart?" Ginny said after a few minutes. "Gosh, Mum was too busy to pack us anything, and I'm starving." 

"Me too," Harry said. "Reckon they're hungry as well." He gestured to Ron and Hermione. "For, you know, something besides each other. I'll go and see if I can scrounge up some food for us." 

Harry was sure he had meant this in all sincerity. He was not one to be bursting with ulterior motives. 

He was also quite sure that, when he slipped out of their compartment, he would go off, find the food cart, get some food, and return to Ginny. 

Then he looked at his watch. His eyes widened. 

It was later than Harry had thought. He stared at the time for a moment, the hands on his watch ticking persistently. Away from Ginny and the others, he was suddenly very much aware of the loudness of the ticking, the way it so perfectly matched the rapid beating of his heart. He realized with a start that he had _not_ meant to find the food cart at all. He had meant to find Draco Malfoy. As if confirming this fact, all of his newfound determination to stay away from Malfoy seemed to begin sweeping itself neatly out the train's window, scattering itself among wildflowers and dimly colored Muggle towns. 

With determination he set off to the luggage car. His mind raced with images and sounds. The beating wings of Malfoy's owl, the crumpled-up parchment he had watched turn to cinders in the fireplace, the scent of Malfoy's skin, of which he had only smelled once but suddenly longed to know again, all of it hit him with the bang of a gun going off. Harry could almost smell the gunpowder. 

He felt hatred, or something like it. It was mixed in messily with all the other images, embedding itself into them so that as they flew through Harry's mind his thoughts became quite indistinguishable. He was unable to interpret them, became muddled until he suddenly arrived at the door of luggage compartment and his vision cleared once more. How had he gotten here so swiftly? He remembered dimly the distant hellos he had said to classmates he had passed on his way here but that seemed as if it belonged in an old forgotten dream. 

For a moment Harry stared dumbly at the door, which was slightly ajar. He looked around. The compartment he was in now was empty. With a deep breath, Harry grasped his wand in one hand, and slid the luggage compartment's door back. 

He blinked. 

Darkness enveloped him, along with the faint human scent you get when everyone's personal belongings are meshed together. The car was pitch black. There wasn't even a window. It was dead silent. 

He had expected anything but this. He thought that perhaps Malfoy would leap out at him. Or maybe turn on Harry with a glare, wand raised. He had been sure that a light would be on at least! 

Eventually he saw the dim shadows of boxes and suitcases as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Harry gave a resigned sigh. Emptiness. He'd wait then. Perhaps Malfoy wasn't coming. Didn't matter. He'd wait anyway, he knew he would, he'd wait until the train came to a screeching halt if that was how long it'd take. He couldn't leave now, not after the intensity he'd just been feeling. 

It was then that Harry noticed the faint glittering in the darkness. For a moment he froze. Then Harry whispered, "_Lumos_." 

Draco sat calmly atop a suitcase, watching Harry, eyes glittering as profusely as they had in the darkness. 

Harry stared at Draco. 

"Hi," Draco said. 

_Hi?!_ That was it? Harry had expected some clever one-liner, a smug sarcastic comment, anything but...hi. A greeting so dreadfully normal, Harry could hardly believe it was Draco Malfoy for a moment. He stared at him again. 

"Er. Hi?" he replied, uncertainly. 

Draco actually smiled. "You're late." 

"Didn't know we set a time." 

"That's true," Draco conceded. "I just assumed you'd be here...sooner." 

"Didn't think I'd show, eh?" 

"No," Draco said confidently, "I knew you'd show." This was a bald-faced lie, of course. Draco had spent the last hour sitting here in the dark, quite sure that Harry had simply been playing games with his head and was, at the moment, laughing the whole thing off with his brainless friends. He had not even bothered to create a light, but had sat patiently down on a suitcase and allowed himself to be swallowed up in the darkness. Without light, it was easier to pretend he did not exist. It was easier to act like he had not been made a fool. 

It was easier to wait, when you were in the dark. 

He had nearly leapt out of his skin when the door of the luggage compartment had opened. He suspected a teacher or someone of that nature had discovered his presence here. However when he saw, standing in the doorway, the very clear silhouette of Harry Potter, Draco froze. He found himself brought back to reality with such a thud that for a moment he was quite dazed. He wanted to say something, call out... but he was paralyzed, unable to move or think. He was a rat, scuttling away at the touch of light, peering out at the intruder from within the dark. Draco felt reduced to prey. 

They stayed still and silent for a while, just looking at eachother, noting the changes in appearance over the summer apart. Draco noticed the faint tan in Harry's skin, Harry noticed that Draco's hair had gotten longer, a few strands merely brushing against his cheek, hardly noticeable really. They drank in these differences, neither saying a word. Harry desperately wanted to look away, but he couldn't. It would be like letting Malfoy win. 

He'd never let that happen. 

"The light is hurting my eyes," Draco said softly. 

"What?" Harry said, so startled that at first he hardly comprehended Draco's words at all. Then he saw Draco peering at the light emanating from Harry's wand. 

Harry didn't move to end the spell, but in a few long strides, Draco was by Harry's side. His fist enclosed over the tip of the wand. Harry saw a faint frown on Draco's lips as he only succeeded in muffling the light, not stopping it. There was now a soft glow illuminating the pale skin of Malfoy's hand. They both looked at it. 

Then Harry grabbed Draco's wrist firmly and in one fluid movement, pulled it from the wand. Light, now set free, distributed itself eagerly around the room. 

"It doesn't hurt _my_ eyes," Harry said coldly. 

"Maybe you're blind," Draco suggested. "Sometimes when you stare at the sun too long, that happens." 

Before Harry could react to this comment, Malfoy's free hand shot out and grabbed Harry's other hand, the one that was holding the wand. Startled by the sudden movement, Harry let the wand slip from his fingers. It clattered, created one lone ray of light that cast itself across the floor, and left the two boys in darkness, struggling against each other's grasp. 

"Let go," Harry said angrily. 

"Say please," Draco managed. 

"Right," Harry said. "That's gonna happen." 

He let go of Draco's wrist and managed to slip out of Draco's grip as well. He lunged for his wand on the floor. A good spell might shut Malfoy up... 

But Draco was there first. He grabbed Harry's wand from the floor and then leapt back. Harry eyed him with a heavy glare that almost made Draco shiver. He caught himself. 

"Want it back, do you, Potter?" he asked. He now held two wands, his and Harry's. He began twirling them in his hands as if they were batons. 

"Give it back." 

"Right," Draco said mockingly, echoing Harry's own words as he carefully went on twirling the wands. "That's gonna happen." 

"I'm warning you!" 

"I wouldn't dish out too many threats, Potter, seeing as I'm the one with the wands." 

"Give it back. _Now._" 

"_Right_ now?" Draco said shrilly, a look of extreme shock on his face. "Oh dear. And what, pray tell, are you going to do if I don't?" 

"I'm going to shove that wand up your ass." 

For a moment the look of shock on Malfoy's face turned real. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something. He was silent. Then he laughed. "That's funny, Potter," he said, still twirling the wands, the faint glow from Harry's creating an odd show of sparks. "It really, really is. Such lovely use of colorful language, too." Firmly grasped by Malfoy's fingers, the wands spun on, uninterrupted. 

It was too much. Harry had been rather proud of his threat, which he didn't think was cliched in the least (he also thought he deserved bonus points for incorporating the word ass into it), but when it did not sustain the desired effect of fear, Harry, glowering, forgot words and dove onto Draco. 

He knocked Draco off his balance and the boy faltered. The two wands he'd been holding fell together to the floor, and Draco slipped backwards, knocking over a suitcase upon which several other suitcases were piled. A domino effect took place and the roar of falling suitcases served as a surprisingly dramatic backdrop to the boys' fighting. The roar finally passed, leaving the boys in silence. They hardly noticed. 

Harry tried to swing at Draco but Draco was ready. Furious at losing his center _again_, he made no hesitance in grabbing Harry's wrist and twisting it to the point where he could see Harry visibly wince. Satisfied, he let go of Harry's wrist. This was a mistake. The pain had given Harry new aggression, and with an almost animal growl, he leapt on Draco again. 

This time there was no suitcase waiting to break Draco's fall. Draco crashed heavily to the floor, Harry falling on top of him. In a surprisingly tender gesture, Harry's hand cupped the back of Draco's head before it could slam painfully against the hard ground. Then his mouth closed over Draco's. 

Heated, their lips fought with ferocity, continuing the battle which had been started with their fists. It was, Harry thought, not a romantic kiss in the least. In fact, when Harry tried later on to describe it in his mind, 'kiss' did not fit into the description at all. 

It was not a kiss. It was simply another weapon that they were using to fight each other. A dangerous weapon too. Never had Harry felt so...absorbed in his enemy. Never had so little existed in the world. There was him and then there was Malfoy and then there was _this_. Harry did not even _feel_ the world slipping away. Quite suddenly the world was simply not there, it never had been, this was all that he had ever known, all that ever was and all that ever would be. 

It was frightening, the power between them. It scared Draco suddenly. How long had they been like this? Time, too, seemed to have disappeared. His whole mouth worked furiously against Harry's, but he suddenly felt as though he were merely an observer. He looked up at Harry, silent. 

Harry glanced down for a brief moment, saw the icy gaze meet his. Their faces were only a fraction of an inch away, Harry could feel Draco's startled breath tracing his collar bone. That didn't matter much though, because suddenly there he was again, reflected in the eyes of Malfoy, lost and unsure of himself, flying through the sky and unstable as hell. 

"Close your damn eyes!" Harry hissed. 

Draco glared. "Don't _ever_ give me an order again, Potter," he whispered fiercely. 

"_Close them_." 

He closed them, and Harry captured Draco's mouth in his before another word could be exchanged. 

The battle grew more violent. There was no meeting of the souls in this kiss, and both of them were relieved. Their previous encounters had been far too open for their liking. They had felt the other's mind. It had not been what they wanted. Those kisses had been beautiful but shocking. 

This was better. This was violent and full of shadows, but it was also understandable. A fight. A glare. A snide cutting remark. They had shared plenty of these and this moment seemed to be similar to those times. The only difference was that their resentment toward eachother was becoming embodied in what some would call a kiss. 

And it was more exhilarating and addictive than anything either had ever known. This wasn't beautiful. This was hideous and scary and exactly what they wanted. 

The train jolted to a stop. There was a piercing shriek announcing the arrival to Hogwarts. It cut through Harry's mind and managed to connect. 

He and Draco jumped apart from one another. This was somewhat difficult, as they were lying on the floor, but they eventually managed to do it. 

They looked at eachother, breathing heavily from lack of oxygen. Harry could feel the need for air tickling impatiently at the back of his mind. As he gulped in air his mind became less murky, he grew more aware of what had happened. 

"What _was_ that?" Harry asked. 

"Train whistle." 

"I meant the..." 

"You mean what just happened?" 

"Yeah." 

"Not really sure what that was." 

"I think it was a kiss," Harry said suddenly. 

"I don't. It was something else." 

"I... Yeah. Something else." 

They were silent. 

"Is this what you intended?" Draco said suddenly. "When you wrote me that letter?" 

"No." 

"Bull." 

"You asked, and I'm telling you the truth. I thought when we met here, we'd..." Harry suddenly could not remember _what_ he'd intended. "I thought we'd duel?" 

"I think we did." 

"No. We couldn't have. A duel has a...a...a winner," Harry finished lamely. It _had_ felt awfully like a duel. 

They heard the train doors open with a _swish_. Their fellow classmates began getting off the Hogwarts Express. 

"Someone'll be here soon," Draco said distantly. "For the luggage, I mean." 

They looked around the luggage compartment. It was still quite dark but their eyes had adjusted to the darkness well enough to see the suitcases strewn unceremoniously across the floor. The locks of a few had broken off, and clothing spilled out of some of the lids. 

"Maybe we should, er, lock some of the suitcases? Put back people's stuff?" Harry said weakly. Had they really done this? 

Draco shrugged, but he seemed happy to turn back to a situation far more realistic than what had just happened. "It's their own fault they bought shoddy locks." 

"Well, they probably weren't expecting anyone to knock them open." 

"Doesn't matter. Buying something of _quality_ is always a good investment. Helps you prepare for the worst." 

"How deep," Harry said scathingly, slightly surprised at his own sudden anger. "Did your _father_ tell you that?" 

"Yes," Draco replied. "Not that you'd know anything about quality, Potter. I mean, take a look at your friends. Scraping the bottom of the barrel there. Mudbloods and Weasleys, and one is really just as bad as the other." 

"Say that again," Harry said quietly. He picked up a wand, which had rolled near his feet. It was Draco's, and Harry threw it angrily to the floor again, before grabbing his own wand. Light still shown from it. 

"If you think a little light'll hurt me-" Draco began, but hushed suddenly. He appeared to be listening. "Someone's coming," he said. When Harry didn't move, Draco roughly grabbed his arm and dragged him out into the next empty compartment. There were windows in this one, and suddenly the two boys were flooded in daylight. The sound of heavy footsteps was quite clear now. 

"Good hearing," Harry remarked before he could stop himself. 

"Not really. I just listen. Unlike some people." Draco smiled unkindly to Harry. Then he turned to a window and pushed it open. 

"You're leaving through the window?" 

"Well, you don't want your little scavenger group to see you with me, do you? They might ask questions. Decide to become sleuths. They're probably in a panic at this very moment, wondering where their precious Potter has run off to. Spying prats," Draco added. 

"Should I leave from the window too, then?" Harry asked. He suddenly felt very dumb, and too bewildered to defend his friends. Malfoy seemed to have answers for everything. Harry _should_ have heard the footsteps coming, they were loud. But he had been too caught up in his thoughts, and they were louder. 

"No, you stay here. Pretend you don't know why everything is all scattered in there." Draco gestured to the luggage compartment. "They're sure to believe _you_. Afterall, Harry Potter doesn't lie, does he?" Draco paused. "Not that I really care if you get in trouble though. Might be amusing." 

Draco hoisted himself onto the window sill. Harry thought it'd be a tight fit through the narrow window but Draco slipped through easily. He gripped the edge of it for a moment, then dropped easily onto the ground below. He landed on his feet and walked off without a second glance. 

The footsteps behind Harry were slow and lumbering. In a flash he turned around. 

It was Hagrid, which explained the fact that he had been heard from so far away. 

"Harry, m'boy!" Hagrid trumpeted. He beamed at Harry. "Haven't seen yeh all summer! How are yeh?" 

"Good. Great," Harry said, offering Hagrid a huge and largely innocent smile. "Er, what are you doing here?" 

"Come to unload th' luggage. Gotta bit o' time 'fore I have to take care of the first years, y'know." 

Hagrid moved past Harry. He slid open the door to the luggage compartment. He blinked. 

"What, on this bloody Earth, _happened_ in here?" 

Harry was going to run away but concluded that that would look slightly suspicious. 

"Eh?" he said instead. 

"Harry, did yeh see anyone come in here?" 

"No... I just got here actually. I was, uh, looking for Ginny?" 

"Ah, she ran off from yeh, huh?" And despite his shock at finding the luggage compartment in such a mess, Hagrid gave a hearty chuckle. "Had a fight, didja?" 

"No," Harry said. "I just..." He paused. "I better get going... Need any help cleaning up, Hagrid?" 

"No, no," Hagrid muttered, disgruntled. "Bumpy ride on the train today, must have rattled the luggage..." But even Hagrid sounded a little doubtful. He turned to Harry. "You go 'head, find yer girl." 

Harry wasted no time in slipping out of the train from a _door_ (like any sane person would, he told himself). 

He found Ginny, Ron and Hermione almost immediately in the swarm of students. 

"Where _were_ you?" Ginny said before any of the others could speak. "Harry, I've been looking and looking. You were gone for nearly half the train ride!" 

"I told you," Harry said uneasily. "I was looking for the, the food cart." 

They stared at him incredulously. 

"Well," he continued defensively, "it was hard! She...she moves fast, y'know. With the cart. And the... wheels." 

"It's a sad, sad day," Ron said solemnly, "when Harry is outrun by an old lady with a food cart." 

"There's a first time for everything," Harry said. He attempted a laugh which came out sounding more like the astonished croak of a toad who finds himself trapped in an jar with no airholes. "Actually," he continued, less desperately, "I got caught up in a discussion with Seamus and Dean. Quidditch talk. You know." 

"That's funny," Hermione said. "I thought Seamus was snogging with Lavender the whole ti-" But she shut up after Harry gave her a meaningful look, and then looked to Ginny. "But then again, I wasn't really paying much attention." 

"No," Ginny agreed. "Far too busy with my brother." 

Hermione blushed and stepped into one of the carriages. Ron glared at Ginny and went in after Hermione. Harry moved to follow but Ginny took his arm before he could. 

"Listen, Harry," she said quietly. "I'm not stupid." She paused. "Well, let's not all rush to disagree." 

"'Course you're not stupid," Harry said, a fraction too late. 

"And I'm not a little girl anymore." 

"I _know_ that." 

"Then why do you still treat me that way, Harry? Why do you still tiptoe around me, as if you can't say what's real?" 

"I do. I try, anyway. But Gin... I don't know what's real anymore than you do. If you expect me to enlighten you with the truth... I can't. I don't know what's true or false." 

"I just want to know where you were, Harry. It doesn't require much mental depth." 

"And I told you. What more can you expect out of me?" 

"I think you were with a girl." 

"I wasn't." He tried a joke. "Unless there's something Seamus isn't telling me." 

It was scary, how easily the lies slipped from Harry's mouth, how easily Harry could deliberately pretend that that he really had been talking with Seamus and Dean, telling tales of Quidditch and discussing strategies excitedly. Honesty had generally come fairly naturally to Harry, and, although he knew he was lying right now, it didn't seem that way in the least. 

Whatever had happened with Malfoy was in another world, a place where the rules here did not apply. It didn't really feel like lying, because it didn't seem as if it had happened. It all belonged in another place, kept itself firmly enclosed in a dream world. 

And dream worlds don't really exist, Harry told himself, and neither do dreams and neither do nightmares and what happened between Malfoy and I, some horrific twist between a dream and nightmare, that doesn't really exist either. 

"Where were you, Harry? I want the truth." 

"The truth?" Harry said. "Truth is, I was with Draco Malfoy." 

~~~ 

"Where were you?" Crabbe and Goyle said together. 

"Oh," Draco said airily, "with Harry Potter. We," he began impressively, "had a duel." 

Several passing Slytherins looked up. 

"That's right," Draco said, watching as the usually sneered faces of Crabbe and Goyle attempted to twist themselves into an expression of shock. "Wasn't the most professional of duels, mind you, but the aggression was up there, so high that really I can't help but call it a duel. A duel with _Harry Potter_," he repeated loudly for the benefit of another group of Slytherins passing by. "And," he added, just as loudly, "I won." 

"Wicked," a Slytherin seventh-year said, stopping. "What happened? Where was it?" 

"Luggage compartment," Draco said as more of a crowd began to gather. "But don't say anything to the professors. I don't want to get in trouble, because we created a monster wreck to some luggage. Oh, and when I say we created, I mean I created. When I say a wreck to some luggage, I mean a wreck to Potter's face. Naturally." 

There were snickers and a few furrowed brows as some Slytherins (namely Crabbe and Goyle) attempted to work this insult out. When it clicked the laughter grew. 

"It was quite a fight," Draco drawled on. "For, oh, maybe ten seconds?" 

"Then what happened?" someone asked. 

"Potter," Draco said with a smirk, "dropped his wand." 

There was a gigantic roar of laughter. The roar sounded, to Draco's ears, like that of a Gryffindor lion. 

~~~ 

"With Draco Malfoy?" Ginny echoed. 

"That's right. We were dueling." 

"You were _what_?" Ginny said loudly. "Oh God, Harry! It's so obvious now... A duel. Why didn't you just tell me?" 

"Well, dueling with a Malfoy? The Malfoys are one of your family's worst enemies. It'd upset you on our first day back at Hogwarts... And I'd already upset you blithering on about Voldemort like that... I just didn't want to make you angry...Or upset." He smiled wryly. "Looks like I didn't quite succeed in either category, did I?" 

"You _should've_ told me," Ginny insisted, but her tone had softened considerably. "That would explain the bruises on your arms and the scratches on your..." She blinked. "Neck?" 

Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about how you clutched at each other, or how his hands were for a moment at the back of your head, shoving you closer. 

Remember how his finger tips trailed from the back of your head to your neck? Remember how while he was doing this, it seemed he was memorizing the contour of that swerving line? 

Remember how you bit his lower lip and he didn't cry out, only dug his nails into your neck, and _don't_ think about how happy, relieved you are to find the scratches still there, as though you think they are an impression of himself that he has left behind for you. 

"Er, the scratches?" Ginny repeated. 

"Malfoy fights like a girl." 

"Ah." 

Hermione appeared to have overheard this. "You should tell someone, Harry!" she said, sticking her head out of the carriage. 

"Why should he tell someone? Everyone _knows_ Malfoy fights like a girl," he heard Ron say. 

"I mean about the duel! And don't say Malfoy fights like a _girl_. We're not living in the dark ages here!" 

"How about if I say he fights like a sissy?" Ron suggested. 

Hermione thought it over. "That'll do." She didn't sound entirely satisfied however. 

"She's right," Ginny agreed as she and Harry joined Ron and Hermione in the carriage. "About how you should tell someone. We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey and then you can tell her how Malfoy hurt you." 

"I'm fine," Harry protested. Like he'd admit being hurt by Malfoy in a million years. "I really am." 

"But-" 

"It'd only get me into trouble, anyway." 

"That's true," Ron said to Ginny. "Let it drop." 

"Since you put it so nicely, brother dear," Ginny said, with a too-sweet smile for Ron. She turned to Harry. "Who won?" she asked with concerned interest. 

"Harry, of course," Ron said before Harry could answer. "You can't _buy_ good dueling skills, which naturally leaves Malfoy in the dust." 

"Couldn't have been a very proper duel," Hermione said. "I mean, Harry didn't even have a second there." 

"Proper or not," Ron said, "long as he bashed in Malfoy's face, I'm happy." 

"You know," Hermione said thoughtfully after a moment, "me too." She glanced at her prefect badge and added hastily, "Although you should never do it again Harry, and it's not showing good school spirit in the least, and the whole thing was very immature and silly, especially considering Malfoy really didn't provoke you at all." 

"Five whole years of provocation," Harry told her darkly, "is plenty provocation enough for me." 

They all laughed. The rest of the ride to Hogwarts was spent in relative quiet, save the play-by-plays of the duel Harry quickly made up for the benefit of Ron, who wanted to know exactly what had happened. However, by the time the four of them reached the Great Hall, it was obvious that they, specifically Harry, had the undesired attention of a large group of students- all of whom happened to be Slytherins. 

Ginny went over to say hello to a few friends in her year that she'd not yet greeted. As she left, Ron leant over the Gryffindor table to where Harry was sitting. 

"Reckon they've found out about the duel," Ron whispered conspiratorially, leaning further across the table. 

"They don't look too happy about it," Hermione remarked. 

"Huh," Ron said, "you'd think they'd be used to it by now, after all the times Harry's kicked Draco Malfoy's-" 

"Assignments!" 

"What?" Ron and Harry said together. 

"I left my summer assignments on the carriage!" Hermione shrieked, papers flying out of her bag as she searched for the correct parchment. She leapt to her feet. "Perhaps they haven't left yet-" 

"Hermione?" Ron said. 

"What?" 

"Check your pockets." 

She did. Neatly folded scrolls marked and underlined as "Summer Assignments" greeted her. 

"Remember? You put them in there so you wouldn't forget them on the carriage," Ron reminded. 

"Ah," Hermione said weakly, sitting back down again. "Right." 

This crisis had barely been averted, when they saw Malfoy swaggering up to the three of them, a group of Slytherins behind him. Never had Harry seen Malfoy swagger quite like this. No forced smirk on Draco today. He was confident. He was poised. He had the upper hand and he knew it. 

"What do _you_ want?" Ron asked scathingly. 

"You mean you haven't told them yet, Potter?" Draco crowed. 

Harry felt the floor sink from under him. If Malfoy found out about the supposed duel Harry had won, he would deny it ever happening. Ginny would find out and maybe she'd believe Draco and God, was he screwed. 

"You haven't told them," Draco said again, "about the duel?" 

The floor seemed to have risen back to it's proper place, but now Harry's jaw had sunk. 

There was a stretched moment of silence. 

"Yeah, he told us," Ron said, when Harry, in his surprise, didn't answer. "Told us how he won too." 

The Slytherins laughed, but Draco didn't. "Strange," he said, looking straight at Harry. "Considering that _I_ was the winner. But then, Potter can't have anyone believing he's less than perfect, can he? Just 'fess up, Potter. There's worse things in this world than losing to a Malfoy." He kept looking at Harry steadily. "_Much_ worse things." 

"I didn't lose to you," Harry said. "Maybe _you_ should ''fess up', Malfoy. What's the matter? Too ashamed to admit that you were beat by a boy who's mother was born a Muggle?" Harry stood up and the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables grew silent. "Better get used to losing to me, Malfoy. Just like you did at the school Quidditch championship last year." 

"I'll never lose to you, Potter," Malfoy said softly. "Not when it matters. Not when it _counts_. A Quidditch game here and there, maybe. But when things really get serious? You cower. You quiver. You choke." 

Draco was suddenly aware of the confused eyes of his audience. "Just like you did at the duel we had today." 

"If you think for a moment anyone truly believes you won that duel," Hermione piped up, "think again. Everyone knows you won't hesitate to lie, if it'll boost your image." 

"Shut up, Mudblood," Draco said dispassionately. 

Harry grabbed Ron before he could fly out of his chair, not without some resistance from Ron and the seams of his robe. 

"Sit down," Harry hissed to him. "Let me handle it." 

Ron sat down again, very reluctantly. 

"I wouldn't talk that way to a prefect," Hermione told Draco coldly. 

"Wise words, you know," Harry said to Draco. "Funny, _you_ weren't made a prefect. Another thing your sleazy father couldn't buy off?" 

"_Don't_ talk about my family!" 

"Don't talk about my friends." 

"Or what?" 

"Or," Harry stepped forward menacingly, "I'm going to take your wand and shove it up your ass." 

There was a loud collective 'ooooooh', and admiring looks cast toward Harry. 

"See," he muttered to Draco under his breath, "_they_ appreciate my insult." 

Draco started to respond but was interrupted. 

"Malfoy! Potter! What _is_ going on?!" 

Harry and Draco quickly stepped back from one another. The Slytherins and Gryffindors watched as Professor McGonagall stepped forward. 

"The Sorting Ceremony's about to begin!" she hissed angrily. "All of you, get to your seats! I don't want the first years getting such an atrocious first impression of Hogwarts!" 

Draco and Harry were still staring daggers at eachother. Harry felt a silent challenge being offered to him through Malfoy's eyes. No, not offered, forced... 

Accept or be a coward, Harry. 

"You two!" McGonagall said. "Sit down with the rest! For God's sake... Need I remind you that your detention starts next week?" 

Detention for his and Malfoy's fight in the sky. He'd forgotten. Detention. With Malfoy? 

"And," McGonagall continued, "you can be assured that you will serve your detentions _seperately_. Expecting you two to tolerate eachother would be too much to hope for, I fear, but the least you can do is learn to _LEAVE_ eachother _ALONE_. Is that _really_ so difficult?!" 

Yes. And it was getting more difficult with every moment that Malfoy's silver tinted eyes stared him down, scrutinizing every thought that flashed through Harry's eyes. 

The First years began streaming in with Hagrid. 

"Ten points from Gryffindor and Slytherin," McGonagall said fretfully as she noticed this. "I do _not_ like to begin the school year like this, boys." 

She rushed off to start the Sorting Hat Ceremony. Before Draco returned to the Slytherin table, Harry meaningfully caught Draco's eye again. 

"I'll see you, Malfoy," Harry said quietly. "This isn't over, and I know a challenge when I see one." 

Draco didn't say anything. He just smirked at Harry and then turned away. 

The boys returned to their respective seats as the Sorting hat began it's shrill melody. 

~~~ 

Harry lay silently in his four-poster bed, curtains open, eyes wide awake, gazing at the stars which dotted the night sky outside. Such a sense of purpose, the stars had. They seemed so firmly in place and he wanted that for a moment, to be etched into the sky, no worries about where he would be in a day or a month or a year. 

"Please," he muttered to his window, to the stars, "I don't want this anymore. I don't want to be Voldemort's worst enemy. I don't want to have to worry. I.... I don't want to be able to see myself every time I look into Malfoy's eyes. I don't want to think about him and how he looks just like he did before the summer started, and yet so different at the same time... I don't want him to take up residence in my thoughts. I don't want to find myself thrown into a world that seems more real than this one. _Please_. Make it all go away." 

He turned away from the window and stayed very still in his bed. Perhaps, if he did not move, he too would find himself etched into this moment forever. He was listening to the rhythmic, quiet breathing of the others in his dormitory, when he heard a slight tap on the window. 

Harry sat up. He was not surprised to see Draco Malfoy hovering on a broomstick outside the window, peering in. 

Harry grabbed the broom lying next to him, threw off his covers and stepped out of bed. He was not wearing his pajamas, but still fully dressed in the robes worn during the day, as was Draco. 

With long, decisive steps, Harry walked to the window and opened it. He stepped onto the ledge, mounted his broom, and jumped out the window. He allowed himself to fall a short distance, before he flew back up to the window. 

It was one of those crisp, softly warm nights you get at the tail-end of summer. The winds were calm, playing with extreme lightness upon Harry's hair and upon the drapes of the Gryffindor common room. Silently, Harry closed the window a bit, so that the breeze would not much disturb his fellow Gryffindors. 

Then he turned to Draco. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"As if you don't know. You were waiting for me in there. You're awake and fully dressed and you don't look as if you were ever planning on going to sleep." Draco paused. "I've come for a duel, Potter. A _real_ Wizard's duel. Not the kind we played at in our earlier years at Hogwarts." 

"Oh," Harry said snidely, "you mean a duel like the one we had on the train? Is _that_ what wizards truly mean when they challenge one another to a duel?" 

Draco laughed. "No, although it was far closer to the real thing than that disgraceful dueling Professor Lockhart tried to teach us. I want a proper duel." 

"We need seconds then, don't we?" Harry looked uncertainly into the dormitory, wondering how angry Ron would be if he woke him up at this hour. Hopefully not very angry; Harry had been waiting for this and was not going to back out of a duel with Malfoy, even if it involved a grumpy Ron. 

"No seconds," Draco said shortly. He began to fly through the night sky, skimming around turrets of Hogwarts. 

"But that's how it's properly done, isn't it?" Harry questioned, following Draco with ease, silently marveling over the quiet of the night. Out here, he did not need an invisibility cloak. The night shrouded him easily, the moon was dim, and only the stars from time to time betrayed pieces of soaring human forms. "I thought that was the way it was supposed to be. Ron told me once, the second is there to take over in case the first wizard dies." 

"Weasley doesn't know what he's talking about, as usual. Do you think real duels are so neat? That's the method of a school yard fight. It's not the way powerful grown wizards battle." 

"Like you would know." 

"I do. In reality, wizards view dueling as a highly personal matter. It has serious consequences. It's not something you want people gawking at, not even your best friend. They're only distractions and end up getting hurt anyway, generally. Besides, if it is a real wizard duel, there's no need for them to be there. It's something private, to be shared between the wizard and his foe, alone." 

Harry stared at Draco incredulously. "Uh. Are you sure you're not talking about something _else_, Malfoy?" 

"Yes, I'm sure," Draco snapped. "It's obvious _you_ only think about one thing." 

"Just making sure," Harry said a bit sheepishly. "It did sound a lot like...in any case, continue." And he actually meant this sincerely, because Draco's words of a real duel were fascinating him. 

"It's something private," Draco went on earnestly, "because it involves two minds and bodies battling eachother so very completely. The essence of one meets the essence another. You throw _everything_ you've got at the opponent and they do the same in return. Everything, Potter, right down to the physical and mental source of your power. It's dark and it's intense. All that matters in the whole world is the downfall and final destruction of your opponent." 

Harry was staring at Draco. 

"These aren't kiddy games, Potter," Draco said seriously. "Are you up for it?" 

"One on one against you, Malfoy?" 

"Of course." 

"I'm up for it." 

"I thought you'd be," Draco said, sounding pleased. "In the Great Hall today...You looked at me with such complete understanding. You _knew_ that..." 

"I knew you wanted to challenge me," Harry said, picking up where Draco stopped. His own voice sounding strange to his ears. "A serious, dangerous challenge...." 

"Knew it'd be the only kind you'd agree to...And then you were waiting for me tonight." 

"Yeah.." 

They flew on a little longer, Harry following Draco as he zoomed along the castle walls. He stopped suddenly, turned to Harry. 

"Do you know, Potter," he said, "that this night sky is ours? Totally and completely ours in a way that nothing else will ever be?" 

"Gee," Harry said sarcastically, "how romantic." 

"I don't mean in a sentimental way," Draco said, shaking his head. "I thought you'd know what I'd mean... Sometimes I forget I'm dealing with a Gryffindor. You're too foolish to ever grasp it." He began to fly again but Harry reached out and grabbed Draco's shoulder, stopping him. 

"Tell me what you mean," he ordered. 

"Can't you feel it? The power? We are the only ones, you and I, who understand it, who feel the layers of cloud and the darkness in the air. We're the only ones who truly can _command_ the sky, manipulate it and soar through it like we own it. We don't merely taste the night air, it belongs to us. _That_ is true power. Just the two of us, controlling all of this." He gestured widely to the sky around them. "It's beautiful." 

"The sky?" 

"The power." 

There was a silence. Draco gave Harry a sidelong look. 

"Don't tell me you're not impressed with it, Potter. Don't tell me you don't see the exquisite beauty in power." 

Harry didn't reply. After a moment he looked up. "You got a place for this duel or are we just taking an evening flight around the castle grounds? Because if that's all, I'll be going back to bed, thanks." 

"It's well after midnight, not evening," Draco corrected. "And, as a matter of fact, we've arrived at our destination." 

Draco turned to the wall behind him and fiddled with a window, which, after a moment, opened obediently under his touch. 

"After you, Potter." 

Harry flew in through the window. It appeared they were in a classroom of sorts. There were dusty desks lining the wall and a chalky blackboard. 

"This room hasn't been used in ages," Draco said. "In fact," he went on, gingerly untangling his wand from a spider web at the window's corner, "I'm sure it's been ages since anyone has even stepped into it at all. Save me. I checked it out about an hour ago." 

"How considerate of you," Harry said, rolling his eyes. 

"I thought so." 

They got off their brooms and stood silently in the abandoned classroom. 

"What happens now?" Harry asked. 

"What do you mean? We fight." 

"Oh. I thought maybe there'd be... I don't know, a ritual or something." 

Draco laughed. "A ritual? Ah, right. I forgot to remind Crabbe to order up some sacrificed pigs for us. How silly of me." 

"Well, I don't know," Harry said defensively, "the way you were describing it..." He trailed off. How could he find words to tell Malfoy what he'd thought? It felt like they were embarking on something sacred, something holy, with the gleam of untainted starlight outside the window. It felt as though, for a brief second, they should bow their heads in prayer. 

"Shall we start, then?" Draco asked cheerfully. 

"Er. Yeah." Harry withdrew his wand. 

"Very well," Draco said. 

They stood there stupidly for a moment. Harry looked at his wand. His mind knew the wand held great power, but it suddenly felt very useless. 

"The Amazing Harry Potter doesn't know what to do?" Draco said with mock-sympathy. "How very sad. Perhaps I'll shed a tear for him." 

"Shut up." 

And yes, suddenly everything fell into place. 

"Or maybe not a _whole_ tear," Draco continued, the look in his eye suddenly very uncivil, almost crazed as he stood here alone, in the dark with Harry Potter. "A whole tear is too good for Potter. Perhaps one single tear for him to share with his dead mum and dad. Not that _they_ need another tear. I'm sure you cry over their poor muggle-kept graves every night." 

Harry's eyes were the off-set darkening green of a sea in a raging storm. He did not move. 

Draco stepped forward, close. Whispered. "What's wrong, Harry? Are you going to cry?" 

"Remember what I said once, Malfoy?" Harry's voice was soft. "How words meant nothing?" 

The punch he threw to Draco's face was swift, sudden and fierce. It hit Draco directly under his right eye. The Slytherin remained conscious but was very dazed. He swayed slightly. 

"That's what really means something," Harry said. "Action." 

Draco's vision cleared and he looked up at Harry. Without a moment's hesitation, Harry pushed Draco backwards, hard. Draco crumpled against the wall but managed to get to his feet again, still swaying. 

"Don't have any strength left in you, do you?" Harry asked tauntingly. "Can't push back. That's a shame. But the duel can't be over yet, can it? Not when it's just begun? How about you give me some more _words_, Malfoy?" he went on, tone growing more mocking. "Maybe words will do the trick." 

Suddenly, Draco smiled. He grabbed Harry and, with shocking strength, threw him half-way across the small classroom. Harry flew and landed with a crash. 

He stared up at Draco in astonishment. 

"Very well," Draco said smoothly, and suddenly his cool eyes were on Harry, the look in them freezing Harry to the spot. "If words are what you want, Potter." 

Draco pointed his wand at Harry and, with a voice just as cool as his eyes, softly said: 

_"Avada Kedavra."_

* * *

**A/N**: Huge glomps of thanks to my beta, Amalin. Also to everyone who reviewed on FFN or schnoogle. Thanks to each of you- I appreciate every single review *so, so* much. The more feedback, the quicker I write (or so I like to think)!  
Please don't sue me. I don't own any of these characters, because the world hates me. ^^ 


	4. Pandora's Box

Chapter 4: Pandora's Box

You told me you hated me and so I believed you. 

You told me I loved you and so I believed you then, too. 

You said maybe you loved me back but that love was fleeting and not to be believed in, but I believed in it anyway because I like to piss you off, Potter. 

So I told myself he loved me and "maybe" he did. It's hard to tell. If what we have is love, I don't see why so many poets try to grapple with it. 

They must be sadists. 

Perhaps I'm exaggerating. I'm told I do that a lot. We have nice moments sometimes too, Potter and I. Yet somehow those quiet, soft moments don't matter. The moments that matter are darker, deeper. The moments that matter are covered in emptiness and hollow heart beats. I'd like to say he fills the emptiness, but really he only expands it, makes it more roomy. 

He fills each moment with such nothingness that I sometimes wonder if I am dead. 

I never believed in destiny or the inevitable. I never believed in anything, really. I don't believe in some eternal safe-haven. I don't believe in Potter. 

People make their own choices. That's something I _do_ believe. But I also think that our choices don't really matter, not as much as we tell ourselves they do. They say the beating wings of a butterfly can start a storm on the other side of the world. 

What they fail to mention is that in order for that storm to start, the choices of everyone else will have to correspond with the butterfly's choice to beat it's wings. I mean, maybe down the road there were some kids blowing bubbles. And maybe, much further down the road, a gust of wind and some storm clouds decided to make themselves known. 

The chance that all the choices will align and become reality is nearly impossible. What if the kids blowing bubbles decided instead to catch fireflies? All the other choices, the butterfly and the storm clouds, those would become obsolete. The butterfly could beat it's wings. Or someone could come along and rip those delicate wings off, crush them into white powder under the bottom of their shoe. It wouldn't really matter either way. I mean, it'd matter to the butterfly, but not to the world. The butterfly is expendable. 

I hate thinking like this, hate seeing the mild and worthless value of life. But the fact of the matter is, if you want to make a difference you have to be more than just a butterfly flapping it's wings because that's what it's always done. 

People say to themselves, "If I wander around like this and go through all the motions like I always have, eventually everything will be only smiles and butterbeers and Quidditch again. If I just pretend nothing is wrong, nothing _will_ be wrong. And pretty soon the world will right itself once more." They're wrong. Things become abnormal, even under normal circumstances. 

Harry Potter doesn't realize that. He likes to try and be normal because he thinks that if he just beats his wings, real soft, nothing will ever change around him. With anyone else this would be true, but not with Harry Potter. Each time he beats his wings, the whole _world_ changes. When Ron Weasley goes off on some long tirade about what a bastard I am, everyone takes it with a grain of salt. However when Potter gives his quiet nod of assent to Weasley's words, suddenly everyone else decides that yes, Draco _must_ be a bastard. And I'm not denying that I am, it's just...If Potter says it's true, it suddenly _is_ true. He has this amazing ability to tell people what's right and wrong without even saying a word. He just sort of looks at you and suddenly the truth is so simple. 

And I'm not saying this in a sappy, romantic way. It's just a fact. It's a power over people that Potter has and he doesn't even realize it or act on it, because he's a sodding idiot. 

I'm an idiot too, for ever looking into his eyes and seeing the world his way. But at least I'm smarter than other people. At least I _know_ that when Potter decides to truly beat his wings, there's going to be a thunder storm that will rip apart the earth. 

And I know that when that thunder storm hits, I'm going to stand by and watch until I drown in the flood. It'll be a pleasant kind of drowning, the sort that makes you unable to think, feel, or even breathe. 

~~~ 

There was a sound like roaring waves, retreating angrily from the shore. Harry recognized it. He had heard this before. He knew the words. He knew the sounds. He knew the green flash of light. 

It connected somehow to a primal instinct deep inside of him. Or perhaps not so primal. Humans are born fearing pain, not death, and that was all _Avada Kedavra_ was. Death, in it's simplest form. An easy flick of a switch, turning off life, letting it float peacefully away with the tide. 

The instinct the words '_Avada Kedavra_' brought out in Harry was an instinct recognizing pain, the fear of loss belonging to a one year old child. 

Most witches and wizards Harry's age would not recognize the deadly words that had passed from their opponent's lips. They would hear the sudden rush and, instead of thinking of death, would be reminded of happy summers at the beach, vacations at a lake house, the building of sand castles consisting mostly of lopsided turrets. For a moment they'd think they were hearing the joyful laugh that is issued forth as a child runs from the chasing waves, just out of reach and giggling as the surf rolls out again. 

An instant later, the rushing sound had passed and they were dead. 

Harry did not have these fond memories. He had never been to the ocean with the Dursleys on summer holidays, or had the surf chase him as a child. He _had_ encountered the words '_Avada Kedavra_' multiple times. Those words were the childhood memories left to Harry, not memories of crashing waves. When he saw the spell almost completely formed on Draco's lips, an old and mournful memory of pain jolted Harry out of his reverie. 

He dove under one of the desks lining the walls of the classroom. He brought his hands up to shield his face, as if this futile gesture would really help. There was a green flash of light which Harry saw, beyond the darkness of his eyelids which were screwed shut. Then there was silence, for a long, long time. 

Malfoy's voice was trembling as it broke through the quiet. "Get out of there, Potter. You're not dead yet or haven't you noticed?" 

Harry emerged from the desk, shaking. 

"Seems this rat in front of you took the blow instead," said Draco. "You must've frightened it out when you _hid_ from me. Convenient." 

Draco picked up the lifeless rat by it's tail and dangled the limp body in front of Harry. It's red eyes were still open, and they seemed to be staring straight at Draco. He continued, unabashed. "Funny how things are always throwing themselves in front of you, Potter. It must feel odd to know you're famous for hiding behind someone else's heroic actions." 

"You tried to kill me," Harry said without emotion, dismissing Draco's words. Dust from the floor layered his clothes and skin, and he watched the rat Draco was holding swing in front of his eyes, hypnotized. Draco dropped the rat to the floor again, where it landed with a soft thud. 

"I'm not the first. To try to kill you, I mean." 

"No, you're not." There was the eerie emptiness within Harry's voice, and for the first time that night Draco felt truly out of his element. Nervously he put his wand away. 

"I warned you, Potter," he began, feeling thoroughly uneasy as he broke the second long silence between them. "I told you this was more than a game." 

"It still feels like one." 

"Well, it _isn't_ one! How daft _are_ you?! I could have killed you, Potter! Isn't that enough to convince you this is more than a bloody game of Chess?" 

"Not really. You were planning on this from the start, then? Bringing me here and killing me?" 

Draco had not planned it. The thought had never even crossed his mind. 

What he had thought would happen was that they would duel and fight and kiss and hurt each other and hate each other, all night long. They would stop when the sun came up. 

Draco had been looking forward to that part. He was anxious to see how Harry Potter looked under the first light of dawn. 

"Yes," Draco lied. "I meant to kill you." 

"But you didn't." Harry's voice was still mostly empty, but Draco thought it also sounded just a bit accusatory. 

"Er, true," said Draco, slightly embarrassed. "My deliverance of the spell was rather...slow. So, _so_ sorry for the inconvenience," he added with a smirk that looked more like a grimace. Draco was always slow on the deliverance of this deadly curse. When he practiced the Killing Curse on rodents and passing birds as a child, under the watchful eye of his father, he'd often been admonished for the time it took for the spell to be carried out. 

"It's because of the way you say it, Draco," Lucius had told his son with an impatient sigh. "_Don't_ be so hesitant. Say the words with confidence and precision, not with such awkward mumbling, as though you're looking over the edge of a cliff." 

Draco had tried to say the words with complete and powerful accuracy this time, but he had obviously failed and given Harry enough time to get out of the way. Draco was not sure if he should be glad about this or not. Remembering the way Harry had shoved him moments earlier, he felt a residue of the anger that had brought him to say '_Avada Kedavra_' in the first place. 

"You're worse than a Squib," snapped Harry. "You're worse than a Muggle." 

"Why?" Draco retorted. "Because I've let you live?" 

"No. Because you've tried to kill me and failed." 

Draco was not sure what to say. 

"I mean," Harry continued, working himself into a rage, "look at yourself! Raised by one of the most powerful wizarding families, at least the way you tell it. Surrounded by darkness all of your life, my self-proclaimed enemy, and yet you don't even know how to _kill_. You're weak. Who are you trying to fool, with those acts of arrogance you pull on people? You're a little boy, Malfoy." 

"Quiet, Potter," was the most brilliant thing Draco could think to say, between his gritted teeth. 

"You can't even perform a simple spell." 

"I'll have you know that _Avada Kedavra_ is _not_ a simple spell! If it was, wizards would be getting killed all over the place. The Killing Curse is a web of complexities and it's difficult for anyone to master." 

"Right. Or maybe it's just difficult for _you_. Perhaps it's not meant to be used by a spineless, slimy little git who hides in his father's shadow in hope that no one will be able to see through the darkness and find out what he _really_ is." 

"Oh?" Draco said, willingly taking the bait. "And what is it that I really am?" 

"A coward." 

"_I'm_ a coward?" Draco shot back. He took a step closer. "Let's look at you, a boy so caught up in his own legacy that he doesn't even know where it ends and where he begins. A boy who hides behind his status as a celebrity in order to avoid the idea that deep inside he may be something so dark and ruthless that his adoring public would stare wide-eyed, and his loving parents would _writhe_ in their graves, if they knew what their little boy had become. If I'm a coward, Potter, what does that make _you_?" 

"A hero." 

Draco sneered. "To who? Sniveling fans who still have nightmares that the Dark Lord will come and steal their puppy? A hero to them, maybe. Not to me." 

"You don't count, Malfoy. You will never count." 

More silence, so thick that it became hard to breathe. 

"It's a difficult spell for anyone to master," Draco said again finally. 

"Wanna bet?" Harry replied darkly. He drew his wand. 

Draco laughed uneasily. "On you, Potter? You don't become a winner by betting on losers." He smiled confidently and tried to reach for his own wand. 

"_Accio wand!_" cried Harry suddenly, and before Draco could grab it his wand had sped from his pocket into Harry's outstretched hand. 

Draco watched in silent shock as the Gryffindor boy began to twirl the two wands in his hand, distinctly mocking Draco's own actions from the afternoon before. 

"You're so dead, Potter," Draco seethed. 

"I don't think so," Harry said with a smile. "You tried that before, remember? Didn't work out too well. You were too slow." 

"I'm gonna kill you," Draco said softly, outraged at being so easily tricked. "I'm going to tie you up and throw you in a dungeon and perform the Cruciatus curse on you until you _beg_ for mercy. I'm going to make you relive every moment of the death of your parents and I'm going to tell you how much they love you until you grow to _despise_ the very concept of love! And then, once I hear you cry out for me to stop, once I hear you plead and beg for a moment of peace, I will kill you, Potter. I'm going to get you. You and your friends and-" 

"My little dog too?" 

"Shut up!" 

"You were too slow before," repeated Harry, ignoring Draco as he threw the wand a short distance into the air and then caught it in his fist. "Do you think you'll be quick enough this time?" 

"Huh?" 

Very deliberately, Harry let Draco's wand clatter to the floor at his feet. Draco wasted no time in diving for the it. 

"_Accio wand_," said Harry calmly, and in a moment the wand was in his hand and Draco was at his feet, one arm reaching out toward the empty space where his wand had been. 

Harry looked down at Draco and Draco looked up at Harry. 

"This what you wanted, Potter?" Draco asked, not moving. "To get me on my knees?" 

Harry looked at Draco imperiously for a moment. Then his expression turned into one of disgust. 

"Get up," he said roughly. 

Draco rose to his feet. In a burst of movement Harry's hands were suddenly on Draco's chest and a moment later his body was slammed against the wall. 

Panting from the pain of the impact, Draco was not at all surprised to find Harry standing there, pointing a wand at Draco's heart. 

"Well, well, well," Draco said, processing the situation with a grin. "Just look at you, Potter. Getting the hang of things, aren't we now?" 

"Don't patronize." 

"I mean, honestly, I'm surprised. And impressed. Didn't think you had it in y-" 

Harry jabbed the wand into Draco's chest. He stared at him with a look that clearly said "Shut up" only with much more deadly flair. 

"Okay." Draco's whisper was so breathy that a few strands of silvery-blond hair shivered slightly in the quiet. "Go ahead. Say it." 

"_What_?" 

"Don't play dumb. You know you want to. You know the words are itching to leap from your tongue." 

"What _words_?" The last syllable spat. 

"_Avada Kedavra_," Draco said calmly, and Harry flinched. "Don't deny it. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the way you twitch with longing when you hear the words strung together. _Avada Kedavra_," Draco said again. Harry did not twitch, but Draco could see a brief lapse in the boy's guarded expression. He saw a flash of terror, and yes, longing. 

"Say it, Potter." Draco's whisper escalated to an unguarded shout. "Say it, dammit! The Pandora's box of curses is just begging to be opened. Go on, experience the power, fulfill your curiosity. You've heard the words said to you. They were said to your parents, and to Cedric as well, I'm sure. Don't stand by watching anymore, gawking as if it's a show. Step up! Test the way the words feel on your lips." Draco glared the challenge at him. "Perhaps the curse won't work. Perhaps it will. Doesn't matter, does it, as long as you get to say the words, point the wand, feel the rush. Don't you want to try, just for a moment, to juggle life and death in your very own hands?" 

Harry shook his head in disbelief. He whispered, "God, Malfoy, why are you trying to get me to kill you?" 

"Because you want to. And I think you need to do what you want for once, Potter." 

"You think I won't?" asked Harry, seeming to grow taller right in front of Draco's eyes. "You think I won't say it? I will!" 

"Go on." 

The heavy silences must have been queuing up, as another one hit the boys. A silence you could drown in, forget your name in, die in. 

"Go on, Harry," Draco said again, almost gently, breaking the silence with a quiver. "Say it. Say '_Avada Ke_-" 

With a swift movement of his hand, Harry pressed his wand against Draco's throat. Draco couldn't breath. He began to choke. 

Harry stood there for a moment, watching him. Then he gave a cry, and dropped the wand. 

"You bastard!" he whispered fiercely to Draco. "You almost... I was about to say...What are you _doing_ to me? What have you put in me?!" 

"Nothing that wasn't already there." 

Their faces were barely separated now, and Draco wondered if Harry would close the distance between them. The look in Draco's eyes was not hopeful, merely expectant. 

Harry only turned his back, walked to the window and picked up his broom. He didn't fly away. He simply stood there, looking out at the sky. 

Draco stared at the back of Harry's head, watching the moonlight raking through his dark raven hair, creating a brilliant, glowing contrast of color. It was a halo of dreaming white light. A breeze shifted easily through Harry's hair, a mystical whisper that seemed almost supernatural, and Draco suppressed a shiver. 

His gaze shifted, briefly, to the dead rat on the floor, then moved back to Harry. 

"I can help you do it, you know," Draco finally said softly. 

"Do what?" asked Harry, not turning around. Draco was glad. It was easier not looking into Harry's eyes. He knew that if Harry turned around, he would be covered in moonlight, lacquered and shining with a holy gleam. Draco didn't know what he'd do if he had to look at Harry looking like that. Throw up, maybe. That or kiss him. 

"The spell," said Draco steadily to Harry's back. "Chances are, you would have failed if you tried it on me tonight." 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." 

"You would have. If I couldn't perform it successfully, there's no chance a wizard like _you_ could have." 

"You've had practice." 

"How would you know?" 

"I wouldn't. I'm just assuming. After all, you're a Malfoy." 

Draco decided not to remark on this last comment. "You've had practice too, you know. You may never have performed it but you sure have watched it in action. You even fought it off, somehow." 

No response. 

"My point is," Draco went on, "that I doubt you would have the power to kill me. But...well...Don't you wish you did? Have that power, I mean." 

"Keep talking." 

"Well, think of how important that spell is. It's unforgivable for a reason. It's powerful. Important. It elevates you above others, makes you better than them." 

"I don't want to be better than others." 

"Like hell you don't." Draco laughed. "In any case, if you truly think you can fight darkness without being able to kill, you're a fool." 

"The power to kill _is_ darkness!" said Harry suddenly, turning around angrily. For a moment, Draco's breath caught in his throat. The moonlight was strong. "If Aurors always stooped to using the Unforgivable Curses, there would be little difference between them and Death Eaters!" 

"Perhaps there shouldn't _be_ a difference. Fight fire with fire, I've always said," drawled Draco, silently thankful that he had not thrown up, _or_ kissed Harry. He was even more thankful that he had not done both at once. 

"Fight fire with fire," repeated Harry. "Doesn't that just create a bigger flame?" 

"Perhaps," Draco said. "But if the heat is strong enough the evil will be wiped out." 

"So will the good," Harry pointed out. "It's just complete and utter destruction." 

Draco shrugged. "Sometimes that's the better option." 

"Sometimes. Maybe." Harry looked at the sky uncertainly. "It's late," he said finally. 

"No shit." 

"I mean, it really is. We should go back. That is, if you're done _dueling_." Harry sneered and Draco almost smiled. The sneer looked absolutely foreign on Harry's face. It was so uncharacteristic that it was downright comical. 

"Right then. So. I'll be leaving," Harry said when Draco was silent. He began to mount his broom. 

"Wait-" began Draco desperately. 

"What?" snapped Harry. 

Draco looked up at the sky, willing the first rays of the sun to come, despite the fact that sunrise was still hours away. He wanted to see Harry in morning light. Not bathed in morning light, no, but tinted with light shining through the shades of a fading night. 

"I'm serious, you know," Draco said. "I really could help you out." 

Harry gave him a sidelong glance. 

"I mean," Draco went on hurriedly, "I could teach you the curse. I may not be the best at performing the spell, but I'm a good teacher. We could..." He paused. "I don't know, help each other perfect it. We could learn it together." 

Harry looked at Draco incredulously. 

"You want to be my study buddy for learning a curse that is used to kill people?" 

"Well, yes." 

Harry was still staring. 

"It wouldn't be bad," explained Draco hastily. "I can teach you, Potter. I know you want to learn it. I know you want to say those words and have them _mean_ something." 

"You," Harry said, "are a sick bastard. The only reason I would ever want to learn Avada Kedavra is so I could kill _you_." 

Harry mounted his broom and leapt out the window. 

"You'll need to learn it sometime!" Draco called after Harry. "These are different, darker times, Potter. Every hero and coward alike will need to know how to wash their hands in blood." 

Harry looked back on his broomstick and gave Draco a fleeting glance. Then he sped away out of sight, back to Gryffindor tower. 

It was then that the doorknob of the classroom began to twitch. 

"Open up!" yelled Filch. "I heard shouting, I did." 

Draco groaned. He had run to the library before and did several spells that would ensure no one would find the classroom, and accidentally intrude upon them. The spells seemed to be wearing off, and now all that truly kept Draco from the wrath of Filch was the lock on the door. 

Draco grabbed his broom, slipped out the window and dove downwards, reluctantly swerving back into the school on the first story. He then made his way to the dungeons and to the deserted Slytherin common room. 

He lounged on one of the luxurious common room chairs and watched the fire. It crackled inanely, roared and spat at Draco before it finally burnt itself down to ashes. Draco then looked at his watch and realized that in a few minutes there would come those first precious rays of dawn. There were no windows in the Slytherin dorm rooms. But there were in Gryffindor Tower, of course. 

Draco shut his eyes tight and tried to imagine the morning light striping Harry Potter's face as he slept, creeping it's way along his close eyelids. 

However, no matter how hard Draco tried, he could now only picture the boy in a sweeping ghostly moonlight. 

~~~ 

Draco was not one to give up on his desires. He had planned to see Harry Potter in the midst of first-morning light, and he had not. This fact tortured him, it played in his head and consumed his thoughts with the grace of lightning. 

The whole duel, in fact, consumed his thoughts. It had felt _good_ to say that deadly curse to Harry Potter, to watch the boy's eyes widen in a mix of fear and exhilaration, to see him dive under a desk with agile, albeit cowardly, grace. 

It felt good also to be pinned to the wall by Harry. It felt good to hear Harry offering him something more than just hate. He had offered Draco death. How many others had gotten such an offer from Harry Potter, the innocent golden boy of the Wizarding world? 

Draco was sure he was the first. And _that_ felt good too. 

_"These are different, darker times, Potter. Every hero and coward alike will need to know how to wash their hands in blood."_

Draco had said this with rage, with the confidence of a zealot. He had waited, unable to breath, watching... 

And then Harry had looked back and stamped quite clearly in his eyes Draco had seen an unmistakable uncertainty. 

That felt better than good. That felt wonderful. And it told Draco all he needed to know. 

Potter would come to him. When things got dark and Harry got darker, he would come to Draco Malfoy. He had refused Draco's earlier offer to be his teacher in the matter. That hurt. But Harry would change his mind, Draco felt. He had to change his mind. After all, it was quite clear that Harry was starting to itch for space in the mold of a hero that had been so tightly built around him. Harry had doubt in his mind. He had heard the ring of truth in what Draco had told him. 

And the ring of truth was enough to make anyone, especially a Gryffindor, break through a mold of steel. 

All of this was well and good. It kept Draco entertained in his classes. He liked feeling in control. He liked that he need only wait for the little proverbial string in Potter's mind to snap and then their games could begin again. 

Only the string wasn't snapping. A few days later and Harry Potter still had not said a word to Draco. 

Then it started. 

Draco decided that he needed to see Harry Potter in the light of dawn. He needed to see how Harry did it, how the morning washed away the shadows that had gathered across Harry's body during the night. He had missed his chance before. Potter had flown out the ruddy window. He had left Draco standing there in the dark, had returned to his dorm and slept while the morning crept over him and covered him once more in it's light. 

With daylight, Draco's attempt to kill Harry was washed away. With daylight, everything he and Harry had shared the night before was also banished. With daylight, Harry stopped talking to Draco and would only rarely share even a fleeting glance with the Slytherin. How could a few hours alter so much? 

How could Harry treat Draco with such complete and utterly beautiful hatred in the night, only to treat him with oblivious indifference in the day? When did this change occur? 

It became an obsession. 

It didn't take Draco long to formulate a plan for catching Harry under dawn's first gaze. It was a complex and intricate plan, that required trickery, deceit, and the silence of thieves. 

Draco was going to hide under Harry's bed. 

Okay, so perhaps this plan had a distinct resemblance to a game of Hide and Seek. But it was the first plan that entered Draco's mind and it seemed simple enough. After the dinner of their seventh day that year at Hogwarts, Draco carefully evaded the company of his fellow Slytherins, grabbed his broom, and flew up to Gryffindor tower. The falling dusk cloaked his form from the eyes of others, and he found the sixth year Gryffindor dorm with ease. 

Peering in through the open window, Draco breathed a sigh of relief when he found the dorm was still empty. 

He stepped into the sixth year dorm room. The lights had been off when he had come before but now they were on. Draco took a good look around. 

The room was decorated in a deep red, almost burgundy, as well as brief glimpses flashing gold. The beds were a luxurious red velvet with golden trimmings. 

You could tell that people really lived here, and it didn't have the cold, steely coloring of Draco's dorm. It was, on the whole, a place that was warm, comforting, _happy_. 

"God," Draco muttered to himself, "how _sickening_." 

He remembered that Harry's bed was the one nearest the window. Feeling a bit childish, Draco looked around furtively and then crawled under Harry's bed with his broom. A tinted red darkness surrounded him. 

It was half an hour before Draco heard someone come in. Neville and Seamus by the sound of it. Dean came in a quarter hour later but it was nearly midnight before Ron and Harry came in, laughter muffled by the red velvet. Draco heard them exchange good nights and then felt the mattress above his head shift with an abrupt change of weight. Draco heard Harry pull the curtains down around him. 

Forty five minutes later and soft rhythmic breathing and the occasional snore from Neville was all there was to be heard. 

Was this ever boring. 

Sighing, Draco eyes slid to a large trunk at the foot of Harry's bed. 

It was not properly closed. 

And there was so, _so_ much time to kill. 

Draco smiled at the trunk. "Well, hello," he whispered sweetly as he withdrew his wand and muttered, "_Lumos_." He crawled slowly along the floor, careful that his head did not bang against the mattress above him. Tentatively Draco opened the trunk, which creaked. No one woke up however, and Draco beamed. Hopefully he'd find some dirt on Potter. Blackmail. Sweet. 

However, rifling through the trunk, Draco could only sigh as he neared the bottom. Robes. More robes. A Quidditch book. 

Draco briefly entertained the idea of taking some of Harry's underwear and hanging it up somewhere on public display. However, he eventually dismissed this idea, finding it too cliché for his tastes. 

Socks, parchment, bottled ink, quills, sweaters- 

Draco's mouth dropped open as all his thoughts were rapidly dismissed as meaningless fancies. He stared blankly at what he held in his hand. 

It was an invisibility cloak. 

Draco recognized it instantly. His father had searched high and low for such a cloak, looking in museums, on the black market, and yes, even on eBay. He hadn't been able to find the rare item. 

But Draco had. 

He stared at it for a good moment longer. It was silky and rippled when he touched it, like a disturbed pool of water. It shimmered. 

With shaking hands, Draco neatly put away all of the items he had thrown recklessly out of Harry's trunk 

Then, taking a deep breath, Draco put the cloak on. He smiled to the dark, then slipped out from under the bed. Drawing one of the curtains aside, Draco felt as if he were no more than a brief rustling breeze. He looked down at the bed. Harry was sleeping on his stomach, head tilted to the side. Draco thought he looked quite young with his glasses off. 

He watched Harry breath for a while. Harry was calm, peaceful, unshaken by nightmares. A range of conflicting thoughts flew through Draco's head. Should he kiss him? Take a pillow and suffocate him? Kill him here, with nothing but a few whispers lying dormant on his lips? 

Draco did none of these things. Instead, he quietly climbed into the bed next to Harry, who in response stirred slightly in his sleep. Draco waited until Harry's breathing (and his own) became more regular. Then Draco reached out and hesitantly trailed his hand down Harry's bare arm, as if he were learning the texture of something very foreign. 

Realizing what he was doing, Draco pulled his hand away hastily as if he had been shocked. 

God, Harry was so _warm_. 

Draco could feel his warmth, radiating off the boy in his sleep. Draco's own breathing slowed, his heartbeat began to sound like some distant half-forgotten lullaby. A sense of security and comfort overcame him as he formed his own niche in Harry's bed. He listened to the calm and steady breathing, felt Harry's warmth. 

Draco couldn't remember the last time he felt so safe. Perhaps he had never felt such safety in his life. 

A very distant voice told him that the next morning he would be appalled that he had been soothed by listening to Potter sleep, would be shocked at his own sentimentality. But that voice didn't matter now. No voice mattered now. The warmth and his own drowsiness overtook Draco and he allowed his eyes to shut. 

He dozed for the rest of the night, just teetering over the brink of sleep. His mind was lulled. The hours did not so much fly by as they did float, drifting like clouds which Draco watched from afar, utterly mesmerized. 

Finally Draco shook himself and looked down at his watch, only to realize the watch was now invisible. With a large yawn, Draco stretched out like a large cat, casting a glance at Harry to make sure the boy didn't stir. Then he pulled the tasseled cord hanging from the canopy of the bed. Immediately the curtains surrounding the four-poster bed sprang open. 

He smiled. Master of time, that was Draco. Outside the window the darkness was weakening, a few stray rays of sunlight scattered shards of night. It would be dawn soon. He had called it. Draco was good at sensing changes in light, even when he was covered in darkness. He remembered how in Malfoy Manor, where night and day always seemed to bleed together unrecognizably, Draco alone had been able to tell the two apart. Perhaps his parents would have been able to tell night and day apart too, if they had cared to try. They hadn't however, and night and day seemed one in the same to them, simply changes in light, lengthening or decreasing shadows in the house. Nothing so simple as night and day could affect the Malfoys, not when they were so well cared for in their tombs of ice. 

Draco propped himself up on one elbow and turned, watching Harry. Draco was simply an observer once more, a pair of invisible eyes that took in all and a mind that processed nothing. Even his thoughts, which usually clamored over one another for precedence, were strangely silent as he intently watched the sun creep over Harry. 

Brightly cleaned shafts of light slipped in through the window. Draco watched the sunlight tickle Harry's shoulder blades, curve around his neck and finally wash over his face. 

It was morning. In a couple hours Harry would awaken. Draco already saw him beginning to stir, emerging into a lighter sleep. 

Draco contemplated the change, now that Harry was washed in a dim morning light. He didn't look so different. Same mussed hair. Same lashes scraping his cheeks. What had Draco expected him to be? A different person? Did he think that, like a werewolf, Harry would change form from moonlight to daylight? Draco realized he had become too wrapped up in seeing Harry between daylight and night, had lost the fact that really Harry was always the same person. 

Then why did he seem so different? How could Potter so gallantly play hero one moment, only to turn on Draco with such doubt in his eyes come nightfall? 

Funny, wasn't it? No one else seemed to see it but Draco. Harry was scared. Harry felt his lack of power in the scheme of things. Harry wanted more. Little Gryffindor could slide _so_ easily into the role of a Slytherin. He had the ambition. Only he denied it, which was why on a shallow surface Harry was a Gryffindor. 

Really, thought Draco, the differences between Gryffindors and Slytherin were all in the choices one made. Slytherins were known for being dishonest, but they were truer to themselves than Gryffindors could ever be. What were Gryffindors anyway? Not much. Just Slytherins with self-esteem issues, lost kids who dreamed of honest bravery, who wanted to wield some fabeled sword of truth. Gryffindors were simply Slytherins stuck in their own fantasies of grandeur, always dreaming, never _acting_. 

Slytherins were the ones with _real_ bravery. They jumped on their dreams, did whatever it took to achieve them. Gryffindors were too afraid of their own strength and would never take advantage of their own courage. 

Or at least Harry wouldn't. Perhaps he was less aware of the power in him than Draco had originally thought. Or maybe he mistook his power for signs of evil. Git. 

The sunlight swathed around Harry's body and Draco, in the cloak, was untouched by it. Again he reached out and touched Harry's back, wondering vaguely if this moment was real. Then he knelt forward and gently kissed the Gryffindor's cheek. His mouth moved and brushed against the corner of Harry's lips. Harry remained fast asleep, so light was Draco's touch. 

Then Draco stood up. 

"Mind if I borrow this cloak, Potter?" he whispered to the sleeping form. There was no response. 

"I'll take that as a yes." 

~~~ 

He was beautiful in any case. Draco could admit that to himself freely as he walked sleepily down to the dungeons, under the invisibility cloak, broomstick in hand. Maybe not in a conventional way. It was more of a...hidden beauty. It sort of crept up on you. Stupid Potter. One day it was obvious that he was scrawny, the next you'd suddenly decide that really he was 'slim and fit'. One day it'd be "Good God, Potter, ever heard of hair gel?", and the next day, in the midst of wanting to kill him, you'd silently be thinking that the wildness of his hair really had a certain appeal. 

Draco hated him. He really, really did. He'd hate anyone who made him question his emotions. Emotions should be based on thought, not the other way around. Emotions should not be fickle, they should be firm and steady and go where you want them to and never stray from the path that was set. 

And it was Potter who was doing this to him, Potter who had made him spend a night in the Gryffindor dorms, Potter who had skewed and twisted his thoughts like this. 

He would pay. _Any_one who messed with the emotions of a Malfoy would have to pay, even gits who went blundering around thinking they were saving the world. Draco would have vengeance. 

~~~ 

The next day was just not the right time for vengeance. It was a Wednesday. Wednesdays were not good days for vengeance, Draco had decided. 

So he stalked instead. 

He loved the feel of the invisibility cloak. It was gorgeous. It had the faint scent of Harry Potter, not a _bad_ scent, just a tickling reminder of fresh cut grass, reminiscent of the Quidditch field on a spring day. Still, it was Harry's scent, and Harry's cloak, and there wasn't much Draco could do about it. No dry-cleaning around for invisibility cloaks. He grew to like the smell anyway, to breath it in. It signified that he was safe, hidden from the blunders of the world. 

Draco enjoyed appearing unnoticed. For the first time he realized how enigmatic Potter actually was. Even around Ron, Hermione and his little girlfriend, rarely did Harry express the wide range of thoughts going through his head. 

And who was that damned black dog who was always coming to see Potter? Just another Harry Potter mystery. Weren't dogs against school rules? And if so, why did Dumbledore nod indulgently every time the dog was seen? Old fool was growing senile. Draco would have to write to his father as soon as possible, although he guessed that Lucius had more pressing issues on his hands of late. He was lying low, acting as a sort of spy for Voldemort. Or at least that was what Draco assumed. Lucius had told him nothing. "Too much of a security risk," Lucius had explained to his son. "Don't want you getting accosted at Hogwarts for information on the Dark Lord, do we?" 

When Draco thought about it, this approach was quite sensible. If anyone tortured Draco for information about his father and Voldemort, Draco would not be able to say a word. If they put a truth spell on him and opened his mind like a book which they prodded, they would find nothing to highlight. Very clever, his father was. Draco admired him. 

Voldemort, and the Ministry's constant blunders as the Dark Lord grew more and more powerful, and the deaths, and his father...These issues seemed far away within the invisibility cloak. You became a sort of ghost, a creature of another world, just a visitor to this one. 

Draco liked catching Harry in moments of unguarded thought, when he believed himself to be alone. 

It shocked him how different the world acted when there was no Draco Malfoy around. Everyone seemed to...well, breath more deeply. Their smiles were less tight, more free. They laughed louder and more good-naturedly. Draco was not sure if he liked it or not. It felt as though he was looking out at existence from eyes that weren't his. 

However, underneath it all he was still Draco Malfoy. There was still an undying urge to humiliate and embarrass, and this was an urge very easy to satisfy with Harry around. He seemed to walk right into embarrassing moments, rather cluelessly. Watching Harry Potter "Er," his way through awkward situations was very amusing, and Draco felt that maybe the strong and varying emotions he felt around Harry were starting to fade, now that Potter was no longer staring at him with hatred in his eyes. 

So Draco was amazed at the intensity he felt when one day, hidden under the invisibility cloak, he spotted Harry and Ginny slipping away together. 

~~~ 

"Quiet," whispered Harry with a grin. Ginny answered this with a strangled giggle. "C'mon," He took her hand and pulling her along with him, down the empty corridor. 

"Harry," Ginny said in mild protest, "we have class in ten minutes." 

"Right," said Harry. "Ten whole minutes to go." 

"Well," she replied, hiding a smile, "it takes me five minutes to even get there." 

"Ten whole minutes to go," Harry repeated. He quickly scanned the abandoned hallway, then leaned forward and tilted Ginny's chin. "It," he told her firmly, "has been far too long since we were alone." 

A short kiss and a long smile as his eyes found Ginny's. Her eyes were a deep hazelnut brown. Looking into Ginny's eyes, Harry recalled sweet scents, spices, coffee that was too rich. 

Mostly, looking into Ginny's eyes made Harry think of burning timber in a fireplace. In a passing breeze, Ginny's red hair would sometimes sweep past her eyes and bear a brief and striking resemblance to tamed flames. 

A hearth. That was what Ginny was to him. A place to go home to, a place where Harry felt safe and loved, untarnished by the activities of the outside world. 

He leaned in and kissed her while she smiled. Harry smiled back at her and then kissed her again and again, short, sweet kisses that never lingered. 

"Snape," she said in between a kiss, "is going to murder me. I have Potions. Harry!" She giggled as he looked up at her, all innocence. 

"Class can wait. We've been at Hogwarts half a month, Gin, and hardly a moment alone." 

Ginny sighed. She slipped her arms around Harry's neck, pulled him closer. "I know. It's no fun." 

Her lips found his, and rested there for a moment before Harry opened them with his own. His arms circled Ginny's waist and their kiss grew deeper. 

This was good. There was no heart-pounding danger in this, no fear, no wondering whether Ginny would kiss him or kill him. There was no uncertainty, and the world around Harry remained intact, as it should be. Ginny did not alter the world, she made it more stable. When there was an earthquake, Ginny would hold you close until the ground settled. 

He kissed her more deeply, and part of him wished that perhaps the earth could shake, just a little bit. 

It was then that Harry heard quiet, erratic footsteps. A cold feeling of dread covered him like a blanket. Fresh memories of the night sky, and darkened rooms, flashes of green light and anxiously daring kisses... 

All of it came back to Harry as, looking up over Ginny's shoulder, he saw Draco Malfoy walking by. The softness of Malfoy's steps was like intricate snowflakes dying on ice. Ginny turned her head to watch Draco but she did not twist out of Harry's embrace. She looked angry at being interrupted. 

"Oh, carry on," Draco said smoothly with a wave of his hand. He surveyed them coolly, an eyebrow piqued as he glanced at Harry's arms, still wrapped neatly around Ginny's waist in a gentlemanly fashion. "Good Lord, Potter, look at you. All alone with your girlfriend, many minutes until class... Any boy with half-decent hormones would be copping a feel right about now." He looked to Ginny. "Something not right in the head with your boyfriend there. Or perhaps not right in some other region altogether." 

Harry and Ginny both blushed profusely, speechless. With a self-satisfied smirk, Draco strode away without another word. Ginny and Harry stared after him until he turned a corner and disappeared. 

After her blush had partially faded, Ginny gave an annoyed sigh. "Erm. Don't mind him, Harry, he's just trying to get to y-" 

Harry covered her mouth with his, yanked Ginny to him swiftly. His lips pulled at hers ferociously, took her in, eyes closing. If Malfoy had been worrying over the state of Harry's hormones before, he would have taken back his words in an instant after seeing this. 

Ginny finally pulled away, flustered. 

"Harry," she said, now slightly flushed. "You're just angry at Malfoy." 

"No," Harry insisted a bit snappily. He pulled her to him again. "C'mon, we still have time." 

A moment later, irony struck a decisive blow. The bell rang. 

"Potions," said Ginny, hearing this. She gently pushed Harry away from her. "Sorry, Harry." She paused. "I really want some time with you. Perhaps later this evening we can-" 

"Can't," Harry said shortly. "Quidditch practice. We have that match against Ravenclaw tomorrow, remember?" 

"Oh, yes," said Ginny, looking downcast. "Well...later then, Harry. Definitely later." 

A brief parting kiss and she was gone. 

Harry waited until the echo of her footsteps died away. 

Then his eyes began darting anxiously for traces of Draco Malfoy. 

Harry wasn't stupid. How had the Slytherin known he was here with Ginny? What were the chances that Malfoy would just happen to pass through an utterly abandoned hallway that they were in? Coincidence? Maybe. Coincidences happened. 

God. Two blessed weeks at Hogwarts, two weeks of harmony, two weeks without Draco. Sure, there were the daily detentions, but McGonagall had been true to her word and these detentions were served separately. The chores Harry had were fairly simple tasks. 

Ron had asked him about the difficulty of Draco's detention, but Harry told Ron that he wouldn't know. After that first night, much to the disappointment of their fellow Hogwarts students, the two boys had hardly spoken. At times Draco would cast a jeer Harry's way, and Harry would respond dutifully with one of his own. It was all for appearance's sake, and was done halfheartedly. Draco was hardly around anymore, and talk of the duel eventually died down with the emergence of new gossip. (Dean had been seen kissing Pansy, only really he fancied Parvati, but now Parvati wouldn't talk to him and was seen snogging Seamus, who was supposedly seeing Lavender, who now wouldn't talk to either Parvati or Seamus but _was_ seen enthusiastically kissing the new captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, who had just broken up with Hannah Abbot, so _that_ was all right.) 

From time to time Draco would fix Harry with such an intense gaze that Harry could not avoid it. He would look back, unflinching, until one of them finally looked away, cracked under the pressure of the other's stare. 

That didn't happen often. Mostly they simply did not speak. 

Harry thought though. He thought of Draco's words. He thought of Avada Kedavra and of death and of dying. He thought of Draco's icy breath slipping easily at the nape of his neck. 

He could practically feel it now. 

He felt haunted. 

"Class," Harry told himself firmly. "Class, Harry, you have class, so you should go to class because that's generally how it works when you have class. Which you do. Thus you should go. To class, I mean. Did I just use the word 'thus'?" 

Taking a deep breath, Harry gave himself a shake as if this would shake away the haunted world he was finding himself in. Then he hurried along the hall to Transfiguration, breaking into a smooth, gliding run. 

There was a soft chuckle once Harry was out of earshot. Really, Draco could never get bored of hearing Harry Potter talking to himself. 

~~~ 

_Sirius Black is alive and free,_ wrote Draco on a piece of parchment. He quickly looked up and was relieved to see Snape still had his back turned. He scribbled more under his desk. _Father, I really think you would be outraged with this entire situation. Dumbledore is well aware that Sirius Black roams free, in the very walls of Hogwarts, and yet nothing has been done about it! Apparently, the convict has some sort of guardianship over Harry Potter. Leave it to Potter to make all the right connections, eh?_

Leave it to Potter indeed. When Draco had overheard Harry, Hermione and Ron speaking of Sirius Black in what they thought were the private confines of an empty Gryffindor common room, Draco had to resist every instinct inside of him, most of which were telling him to pull off the invisibility cloak and promptly blackmail Harry. He had been aching to find out who the hell this 'Snuffles' they were always speaking of was. 

When he learned that Snuffles was not, in fact, an idiotic pet-name Harry used for Ginny, Draco felt immensely relieved. However, upon learning that Snuffles _was_ the convict Sirius Black, he quickly became ecstatic. 

The only thing that kept Draco from resorting to blackmail was the damned cloak. The wrath of his Slytherin house-mates was not something he felt like dealing with. Sneaking into another house's dorm would lose a great deal of house-points, and stealing another student's property would lose even more. Sleeping in another student's bed was also looked down upon (although this did not stop many students), but Draco sure as hell wasn't planning on saying anything about _that_ little escapade to anyone. He still wasn't sure what had driven him to sleep in Potter's bed, but at the moment he was blaming it on some strange exotic fever that had momentarily entered his blood stream. It certainly had the _symptons_ of a fever. After Draco had returned to his own bed, he had felt like throwing up. Again. Potter made him nauseous. He always had. 

Draco instead wrote to his father, who had never had any sort of fever. Draco could not remember Lucius Malfoy ever being sick. It was just that he had never really been well either. 

Draco could well imagine his father's glee at getting such valuable information from his own son. He didn't thirst for his father's approval and praise, but he did value it. His father was a powerful and influential person, and even his own son had to work hard to get on his good side. After all, Lucius Malfoy's good side was a side worth being on. 

_In any case,_ Draco went on, _I don't suspect Sirius Black to remain free much longer. He currently hides in the form of a large black dog. I trust that you, Father, will take this situation into your own hands and kick Dumbledore out of his job for good. He is clearly inept when it comes to the welfare of his students, and he is also a bloody moron. _

With this perfectly fitting preamble, Draco was about to launch into a rant on the idiotic tendencies of Professor Dumbledore. He was interrupted when Cho Chang, Head Girl, entered the classroom. Professor Snape pretended to take no notice, but Cho cleared her throat nervously. 

"Erm," said Cho. "Professor Dumbledore wants to talk to Harry Potter, Professor. In his office." 

At Harry's name Draco's head snapped up from his letter. His eyes found Harry in an instant. Harry, however, was staring straight ahead, his own eyes riveted on Cho. Draco could see a barely noticeable blush creeping along the back of Harry's neck. 

It felt strange to watch this, and strange to think that Harry had been harboring mushy, sappy feelings for Cho all these years, and had barely acted on them... Stranger still to know that Harry had no such sappy feelings for Draco, and yet Potter had displayed to him a passion which Draco could barely match. Draco shivered in his seat and longed to slip on the invisibility cloak, longed to stride over to Harry and touch him, shove him, punch him, kill him...just to see how Harry would react. 

"Professor?" said Cho. 

"GO, Potter," snapped Snape in his most biting tone. 

"Er. Yes. Right," said Harry. He quickly got out of his seat, knocking over various quills, and rushed over to Cho. The two hurried down the hall together. 

Draco watched them go. Then, he quickly stuffed the invisibility cloak into the pocket of his robes. He had to follow Potter. It was just that simple, there were no other alternatives in his mind. But how was he to leave the classroom? 

Well. Slytherin weren't said to be full of wit and cunning for nothing. 

"Professor Snape?" asked Draco, hand raised, eyes innocent. "May I go to the bathroom?" 

~~~ 

"I'll leave you here, Harry," Cho said awkwardly, as the two stood by the door to Dumbledore's office. "Good luck to you, whatever this is about." 

"Thanks," replied Harry. "Er. Good luck to you too. I mean, in the game tomorrow. Yeah." 

Cho smiled prettily and Harry blushed less prettily. "You too, Harry." 

She left, and after staring after her for a moment, Harry rapped smartly on the door. 

"Come in," came Dumbledore's voice. There was a solemn tone to it, which Draco had rarely heard in all his years at Hogwarts. 

Harry entered and Draco slipped in before the door shut. 

Draco blinked. Dumbledore sat at his desk, hands steeped. Behind him stood Remus Lupin. Draco vaguely remembered him as the old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher from third year. 

"Professor Lupin!" said Harry happily, taking a seat at Dumbledore's desk and grinning at Lupin. "Wow! I didn't know you were here, what's-" But Harry's jovial tone quickly faded as he noted the somberness in Lupin's face. "What's wrong?" Harry asked hesitantly. 

"Harry," Dumbledore began, "you know that when Voldemort was at his height, barely a witch or wizard had not lost someone they did not know or love. It was a time of hardship, a time of grief and mourning." 

"Yes..." Harry's voice had never sounded so hesitant. "Yes, I know that Professor." His eyes darted to Lupin, but the man's eyes betrayed nothing more than weariness. 

"I have some... unfortunate news to tell you, Harry." For a moment, Draco was sure that Dumbledore's eyes looked directly into his own, but a moment later he was no longer so sure. Dumbledore continued as if he had never paused. "Harry, Sirius Black is dead." 

Harry looked at Dumbledore and said nothing. 

"He was killed by people we presume are Death Eaters. What actually happened we are not yet sure of. Black has- _had_ been engaged in work against Voldemort, work which he was forbidden to breath a word of, not to you, nor nearly anyone in the Ministry." 

"Oh," said Harry. 

"Again, we are not quite sure _what_ has happened. Naturally, I will tell you of any new information I receive, as soon as I hear it." 

"Yes. Thank you, Professor." 

"I...I know losing someone you know, especially someone you love...Well, that is never easy, no matter how old you are." Dumbledore gave what was almost a shaky laugh. "I know you have lost many people in your life, Harry, and I wish that it was not so... I know also that you loved Sirius Black very much and that he loved you as well. He was always telling me about how much of Lily and James he saw in you, and that made him happier than just about anything else in the world. Sirius will always be proud of you, Harry. Always." 

Dumbledore was looking at Harry as if he expected him to say something. Harry just nodded his head. 

"There will be a funeral service, two days from today," Dumbledore went on. "I urge you to attend, but of course you are free not to." 

Harry nodded again. "May I return to class now, Professor?" 

"Yes, if you so wish," said Dumbledore, fixing Harry with an unreadable stare. "If you so wish." 

"I do." Harry rose from his seat and made for the door. 

"Come to me anytime you wish to talk, Harry." 

"I will. Thank you, Professor." 

~~~ 

Long steps, angry steps, face blank and empty. 

In the abandoned corridor outside of Dumbledore's office, Draco found himself running to keep up with Harry's strides. Finally he threw off the invisibility cloak. His fingers encircled Harry's arm tightly, holding the Gryffindor still. 

"_You_," Harry spat turning around. His eyes went quickly to the invisibility cloak in Draco's other hand. He barked a laugh. 

"This isn't what it looks like," Draco said quickly. "I mean this invisibility cloak, it's not-" 

"Know what, Malfoy? I really don't give a damn. Take it. Take it. Take it and use it or dump it or burn it. It really doesn't matter to me anymore." Harry stared savagely at Draco. "Do you know who that cloak belonged to?" 

"Who?" asked Draco. 

"My father." He said the words with complete bitterness. "Know what I'm beginning to learn about people?" 

"Look, Potter, I heard what Dumbledore said in there, about Sirius Black being-" 

"They go away," Harry went on, as if Draco had not said a word. "You love them and need them and trust them, depend on them... Then they repay you by leaving you. Abandonment. Utter and complete abandonment. That's just how the world goes." 

"You haven't learned that by now?" laughed Draco. Harry arched an eyebrow. "Sixteen years here, and you still haven't learned how the world works?" 

Harry watched him, narrowed eyes spitting green flame at him. 

"People keep secrets from you, Potter." Draco gave Harry a cold, twisted grin. "They hide them behind false smiles and promises, and then when you finally learn the truth, they die before you even get the chance to stab them in the back. It's called life. Honestly, didn't you know that? Where exactly have you been _living_ these past years? Ah yes, I forgot. You've been in a hero's dream world. Well, forget about that and welcome to life." 

"Inspiring speech. Really. You're such a comfort, Malfoy." 

"Angry, Potter? Didn't think I'd tell you the truth? You want me to lie to you." 

"No. I just didn't expect-" 

"I know what you expected. You thought I'd fawn all over you because Sirius Black died, thought I'd pat you awkwardly on the shoulder, kiss you out of a sympathy. Sorry, Potter. I'm not one of your little wind-up friends, who seize you everytime you start to trip. I don't give you the reactions you expect and that's why you need me. Do you really want to be treated as if you're fragile? Do you want me to tiptoe around you because you're grieving?" 

"I don't want you around me, period." 

"You don't honestly believe that, do you?" 

"Get your hands off of me," Harry growled, staring pointedly at Draco's hand which was still tightly gripping his arm. 

"No." 

"He's dead!" said Harry, not moving. "So keep your theories of the world to yourself, Malfoy. Sirius is dead, and someone needs to pay. It was your kind that did this." 

"You don't know that for sure. Dumbledore says things and you believe him. If he told you the world was shaped like a drunk kangaroo, you'd smile and nod and go to inform the masses." His fingers curled more tightly around Harry's arm. 

"An eye for an eye, a death for a death." Harry was not listening to Draco, he was listening to himself. Draco had never heard Harry talk like this. "A life for a life, you know? Isn't that how the world really works, Malfoy? Isn't that what you're trying to tell me?" Harry withdrew his wand. He bit his lip for a moment, before looking up and steadily meeting Draco's gaze. 

"I think," went on Harry, "that I'm feeling braver now. I think that now I'm feeling like a _real_ hero." 

"Isn't that nice," drawled Draco. "Perhaps now that you're bursting with self-righteous Gryffindor spirit, you'll be strong enough to kill me." 

"You want me to?" 

"I want to see you try." Slowly, Draco let go of Harry's arm. His tight grip had left a red ring around Harry's arm, but Harry took no notice as he pointed the wand at Draco. Draco thought Harry looked like a madman. The arm holding the wand was shaking with anger and fear. 

"I hate you, Malfoy." 

"Just say it, coward." 

There was a slight rustle as Draco shifted his weight, then a brief silence that slipped away when Harry opened his mouth. 

"_Avada Kedavra_," hissed Harry, staring straight at Draco. He waited for the sound of waves, he waited for Draco's eyes to die. Nothing. "_Avada Kedavra_," Harry repeated, louder, stronger. "_Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!_ You're _dead_, Malfoy. You're DEAD." 

Draco just stood there and watched him, a smirk curling maliciously on his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest and did not say a word. 

"_Avada Kedavra_," Harry screamed, growing hysterical. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes were bright and crazed. "_Avada Kedavra, Avada Kedavra, AVADA KEDAVRA_." 

Silence, but for the eerie echo of Harry's words, which ruffled the drawn curtains on the windows. 

"Come on, Potter," said Draco, smirk refusing to leave his face. "Once more with _feeling_." 

Harry slammed Draco heavily against the wall with such force that the armor lined up along it shook. Draco gasped for air. 

"_Avada Kedavra_," Harry whispered softly, with the quiet reverence of a prayer. 

Draco's mouth was open as he gulped down air. Harry covered Draco's lips with his own before he could get the air he sought. Draco pushed him away and managed to take in another breath of air before Harry's mouth found his once more. 

"_Avada Kedavra_," murmured Harry against Draco's mouth. Both boys shivered as they felt the vibration of these words shudder and linger between their lips. 

Draco pulled Harry closer, but Harry stopped him. 

"You'll teach me," said Harry quietly, breaking their embrace. He stared intently at Draco. "Not now. But later. You'll teach me the spell." 

Draco nodded numbly. "We start tomorrow, Potter." Then he pulled Harry to him once more. 

The two sank slowly to the floor, tangled in each other's grasp. 

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter is dedicated to Christy, as a belated and rather shabby birthday present. Also to my beta Amalin, for being fantastic, and to each and every reviewer. I know I sound like a broken record, but thank you so much for your reviews!   
The "Once more with feeling" comment is my homage to the wonder that is the Buffy Musical. ^-^  
Go to http://www.theburrow.net/sky.html to be notified when a new chapter comes out. And again, don't kill me. Or sue me. 


	5. Illusions

**Author Note:**Kimby, Silensy, Marina, Hummie, Miztiy, Snape'sSlave, Draco Malfoy-N-Harry Potter, BUG, Aurora, sprite, Anne Phoenix, Kalariona, Youko Gingitsune, Portuguese-GirL, Maya, Sheron(X4!), bondagechic, Dani, Mignonne-and-Sellene, and viy, and of course Christy and Rhi (for listening to me babble), and Amalin (my muchly loved beta). You all deserve a cookie or life long happiness or something.   
Also, this is totally irrelevant, but in the first book of the Harry Potter series, Harry's cloak is referred to as an 'invisibility cloak'. In later books it's 'Invisibility Cloak'. Because I refuse to let JK confuse me, I'm sticking with the former. Er, in case you were wondering.

Chapter 5: Illusions

His eyes reflect the world.

They do not reflect him.

Draco's true thoughts are cloaked from view. His smiles often seem insincere because they never reach his eyes. 

"Eyes are the windows to the soul." Not the case with Malfoy. His eyes are windows to the world, mirrors showing the twists and turns in the souls of others. His own soul is unmapped, his emotions hidden behind grey glass.

Sometimes the reflection is like ice and I think that if I touch my eyelashes I will find them dotted with frost. Even on the warmest summer day, the reflection in Malfoy's eyes can make the world seem frozen.

Other times the reflection portrays the world as a place of slow-moving people, their features so blank that they appear to be made of finely chiseled stone.

He makes the world cold. He makes it a carving out of stone. He makes the world haunted.

Sometimes I wish I could forever watch the world in his eyes. Not _through_ his eyes, but _in_ his eyes. I'd like to watch the reflection change and blur. I'd like to see people live and die in a dome of stone and ice. Somehow that seems safer than watching the world through my own eyes, where everything is sharp and bright and painstakingly real to the touch.

I read about a cold winter once, a winter that refused to bleed into a warm spring. There were butterflies all over; they were migrating. Only the warmth they sought wasn't there. It was too cold and millions of their small bodies littered the ground. 

I look for warmth in Draco too, but all I get is frostbite. I wonder sometimes if one more bitingly cold look from Draco is all it will take to freeze my wings off, send me tumbling downward. Sometimes I think that I'm just barely holding on, that my life depends on Malfoy and whether or not he feels like killing me with one last chilled glare. There's something exciting about that. It's one thing to know your life is in the hands of a friend, but in the hands of someone like Draco Malfoy…

His hands are warm. It doesn't seem like they should be. It seems like there should be ice encrusted across them like a sheet of glass. You'd think that the only chill his hands could bestow on you would be from the cold. 

I like to think that those butterflies only died because the chilled air brought them such delight, they didn't ever want to fly again. They were happy just lying there, watching the ice dance upon their wings.

Butterflies. They're sort of like birds, aren't they? 

~~~ 

The floor was cold but Malfoy was colder. His limbs were sharply angular; he pushed Harry to the ground or maybe it was Harry who pushed him. Difficult to tell when every second it is someone else pulling, someone else pushing, everything lost in a haze of robes that moved past their face like a whip of night. 

Hogwarts robes were made to be billowy and they swept by in a curtain of black mist.

Harry fought to get through the mist, to Draco. He heard a rip of cloth, relished the sound of it.

He ripped at the cloth of Draco's robes again, more slowly this time. He let it last, a hesitant tearing of fabric. The rip seemed to shatter all illusions of mist, and suddenly it was just Malfoy sitting there, just Malfoy with flushed cheeks and torn robes that did not billow, only rustled as he moved over Harry. He flattened Harry to the ground, pinned his shoulders down and watched the boy struggle against him for a moment. 

His black hair tumbled over his eyes. Draco wondered what it was like, to have hair so dark that it was darker than the shadows behind closed eyes.

Then Draco swept the hair out of Harry's face.

"Try to kill me again, Potter. Please."

Harry kissed him.

"I want you to," Draco insisted.

But he was kissing Harry back and it was all tangled arms and legs and eyelashes, so close were their faces.

Harry felt like he should be lost in the moment, but he was not. It was just the opposite in fact; every moment in the world seemed to be rushing at him. Every sight, every sound, each thought and sensation… They all whirled around Harry. Being so near to Draco made the world larger, more frightening and nonsensical, dangerous and deadly, until the world became too large to handle and collapsed upon itself.

It also felt really good.

Puzzle pieces of images appeared in Harry's mind; life seemed a dream he knew he would forget come morning. 

Draco, however, did not forget his dreams so easily. His lips remained on Harry but he reached out and groped the air like a blind man, before his fist closed on the invisibility cloak that was piled on the floor nearby, a forgotten stream of water. 

He pulled the cloak over both of them.

Harry didn't notice that they were covered by the cloak until Draco's lips pulled away from him. 

"Huh?" asked Harry. And then, "Why are we under the invisibility cloak?"

"Someone is coming."

"Yes," agreed Harry crossly.

"Well?"

"I don't give a damn if anyone sees us. Do you?"

"Of course. And so do you. You're just upset about Black."

"I'm upset about the world."

"Just get off the ground, Potter."

"Might be easier if you weren't on top of me."

Draco moved off of Harry. "Keep your voice down," he warned as the two awkwardly stood up together under the invisibility cloak. 

Harry was aware of their closeness. It was funny, when he was with Draco, holding Draco, Harry felt more whole than ever before. However at this slim distance all that mattered was Malfoy. Malfoy and Malfoy and Harry, who was he? Just a long forgotten boy whose mind had been abandoned, just a shell of a being. The world centered on Draco and his perfections and his imperfections and the shape of his eyelids and the curve of his neck, the sharpness of his elbow and the way his lips met together. 

Harry became painfully aware of the air lingering between them, the distance that was dying to fold upon itself and crush their bodies against one another.

Harry saw Remus Lupin turn the corner from Dumbledore's office. He strode right past the two boys, pale-faced. There were tears lying quietly in his eyes, unmoving but very much real. Harry watched him rush past. He looked intently into Lupin's eyes, willing the tears within them to fall. Lupin hurried past but his tears remained unshed.

Fire burned a careful precise path down Harry's face. He wondered dimly if the tears would leave a scar. Another scar, just what Harry needed. Perhaps this time his face would be so disfigured that he would no longer be the hero, he would be the freak. Harry didn't think he'd mind that too much. It was, after all, what he truly was. It might be refreshing, no longer playing a part.

Draco tentatively reached a hand forward as if reaching to brush away Harry's tears. Harry looked at him, eyes tracing his face like a stray breeze. Draco pulled his hand back quickly, then seemed to strengthen his resolve and reached forward again.

Harry grabbed his wrist before it moved any further. "_Don't_." His gaze became firmly riveted on the ground.

Silence.

"Let them fall," Harry said finally. "And don't touch me again."

"I won't if you don't."

"I _didn't_."

"You do. You touch me with your eyes."

His tone was deadpan. "I touch you with my eyes."

"Yes."

"That's a neat little trick seeing as my eyes are pretty much stuck in my head."

"You know what I mean and don't try to be smart, Potter. It's never been your expertise."

"I'll be taking this, if you're done with it," said Harry spitefully, too exhausted to come to his own defense. 

"Taking what?"

The bell rang, signifying the end of class. Suddenly there was a soft whistle of air around Draco, then the feeling of emerging from the warmth of a clear pool.

"Ah," he said to nothingness, realizing he was no longer invisible. "The cloak." He looked to the place where he supposed Harry to be. 

Harry gave a startled gasp.

Draco was looking directly into Harry's eyes.

"You can see me?!" came Harry's exclaim of surprise. 

Draco looked puzzled. "No. Of course not. That's sort of the point of a cloak that makes you invisible. Either that or it's a blind man's idea of an ironic joke."

"Malfoy, I don't think you understand! You're looking right at me!"

Draco shrugged uneasily. "I knew where you were." 

"You mean you sensed me." It was not a question.

Draco just looked at him.

"That," Harry stated quietly, "is decidedly creepy."

"Class," Draco said shortly, turning around to go. Harry grabbed him and pulled him back into the shadows. It felt immensely surreal, as if the air itself had suddenly decided to pull Draco into oblivion.

Draco knew what this was about. "You want to set a time," he said amicably. "Tomorrow evening then?" 

"You've Quidditch practice tomorrow evening," Harry reminded him.

"Becoming my stalker, Potter?"

Was it possible to hear a smile? "I think you've earned that title, Malfoy, not me. I know you've put that cloak to good use." 

"Twelve o'clock then," said Draco, ignoring this. "Midnight."

"Eleven."

"Midnight."

"Eleven."

"I _said_ midnight and so it will _be_ midnight! Don't for a moment think you're calling the shots, Potter."

Draco could feel Harry's breath against his cheek, so warm that Draco felt almost flushed.

"Eleven," said Harry, in a very final way. "We meet here by Dumbledore's office at eleven."

Draco drew in a deep breath. "I hate you, Potter."

"I'm going to class."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Draco held up a hand to stop him. "What do I do about these?" He gestured to several of the rips in his robes. "Claim I was mauled by a badger? Can't think of any spells that will replace _this_. The fabric is expensive."

"Badgers aren't big with the mauling. Pass it off as a new fashion."

Draco made a dismissive noise. "Right. Like that'll work."

~~~

When Hermione and Ron asked Harry what Dumbledore wanted, Harry opened his mouth but the correct words didn't come out. Instead, he had made up some idle excuse about information on try outs for the Quidditch team.

Now at supper, he again tried to tell them about Sirius. He tried to say the somber words but found it to be impossible. 

They deserve to know, Harry told himself. Ron, Hermione... They were friends with Sirius too, after all. They cared for him liked him, watched out for him…

But they did not love him. They didn't hear the stories Sirius had told Harry, stories of his days at Hogwarts and of Harry's parents and how much they fought and how much they loved each other. Sirius was not their one remaining shred of family.

Harry wanted to tell them, he truly did. However he also wanted time, a day to keep the mourning to himself, a blank empty day in which he could shove the death to the back of his mind, feeling the grief and blind hatred of it only when he was alone.

Alone or with Draco.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and began to listen to the conversation around him. Hermione and Ginny appeared to be having an argument. Ginny was standing up and turning around in a circle.

"Well, I don't see what's wrong with them!" she cried. 

"They're… they're silly!" Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Ginny, just because someone says something is cool doesn't mean it _is_." It was supper, later that evening.

"No one told me it was cool. I just thought it looked neat."

"Right. And it just so happens that so did most of Slytherin, half of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and even a few rebel Hufflepuffs!"

"It's _fashionable_."

"It's childish and stupid!" Hermione turned around. "What do you think, Harry?"

Harry was still staring dumbfounded at Ginny's robes. 

They were quite artfully ripped at the arms and around the knees.

"Erm," Harry managed. "Er. Nice?"

Ginny looked disappointed. "Just…nice?"

"Better than Lavender's and Parvati's anyway," Hermione said quickly by way of comfort. Lavender and Parvati had become a bit manic with the ripping of their robes. Boys kept staring at them, and they were both giggling like mad.

"That's not being fashionable," said Ginny, "that's just being a sl-"

"Not you too!" Hermione exclaimed disdainfully, cutting Ginny off. She was staring at something behind Harry in absolute horror.

"What?" a voice by Harry asked innocently. Harry turned around in his chair and promptly snorted out a laugh.

The sleeves, the hem, and the back of Ron's robes were torn and shredded so badly that it looked as though a hungry wolf had attacked him. He was rivaling both Lavender and Parvati when it came to lack of fabric.

"It was really quite simple to do," said Ron with ease as he took a seat next to Harry. "These robes were already sort of ripped up, second hand. Besides," he continued, looking slightly hurt, "it looks _so_ cool. Bit chilly though. Stop laughing, Harry!"

Fashion sense at Hogwarts was a concept virtually foreign to the student body as a whole. However a push in the right direction, a slightly risky choice of clothing…

And two hours later over half the school had taken it upon themselves to be 'fashionable'.

No one quite remembered exactly where the idea that ripped robes were all the rage had come from but, as he watched Draco Malfoy saunter by with a self-satisfied smirk and ripped robes of his own, Harry thought he had a very good idea. 

That night at a quarter past eleven, Harry saw the sleek form walking down the hall. Harry stepped out from the shield of armor he had been waiting behind. He stopped in front of Draco and Draco regarded him without surprise. Harry frowned.

"You're late."

"Not very."

"Still."

"What?"

"You're still late."

"I'll try and be more punctual next time, Professor." Draco's voice was mocking.

They stood together in the dark corridor.

"So," said Draco finally. "We're going to the classroom I took you to before. It's just swathed in protection spells, anti-sound charms, the works. No one will be able to hear us outside of that room. If they even start to think of the classroom, the thought will leave their mind before it truly forms."

"That's good," Harry murmured idly. "Here." He threw the invisibility cloak over himself and Draco. "Lead the way."

The two traveled up one staircase, hunched together under the cloak. Harry was filled with a strange anticipation. There was the thought of saying _'Avada Kedavra' _ and watching this action carried to life and then to death. There was the power he wanted to fill behind the words. There was also the fact that he wanted to see what the icy green light looked like from a different side. Was it as beautiful from the other end? Would it be as beautiful as it was when it shot from Draco's wand? Perhaps not. What was more lovely, Harry wondered, to give death, or to receive it?

He anticipated the thundering silence that always followed the passing of waves. He anticipated also the locks of doors that such powerful curses could break . And he was anticipating, right at this very moment, the look in Draco's eyes when Harry carried the spell through without trouble. He imagined the change. Perhaps the fire of death could melt the ice in Draco's eyes.

Or perhaps the ice would quench the fire. Harry didn't know, and that made the moment so much more exciting, unpredictable. His nerves were on end, he shivered inwardly every time Draco brushed against him underneath the cloak. It was not a shiver of pleasure, nor was it one of revulsion. Rather it was like everything else this damned night, a shiver of anticipation.

~~~

Draco lifted the lid off of the plain cardboard box without ceremony. Inside, several rats and mice scurried away from the light. They peered up at the two boys, their eyes moist and bright in the darkness.

"For practice," said Draco, placing the box on the table. He picked one up and moved to hand it to Harry. Harry took a step backwards. 

Draco sighed impatiently. "Don't tell me you're getting squeamish _now_."

"I'm not," said Harry, wringing his hands uncomfortably. "It's only that… I thought we'd start with something smaller." The rat blinked at him. "Like bugs or something. Insects. They're not…I mean rats, they kind of…_look_ at you. Their eyes, I mean, there's intelligence behind them, you know? Thought. They just…I don't know. They _look_ at you," he repeated in earnest. 

"Eloquent as always, Potter," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Look, don't you think that Black's killers looked at him?"

"No," Harry said quietly. "I don't see how they could."

"Oh, they did," Draco said without remorse. "Trust me on that. They looked in his eyes, Potter, and they smiled and gloated and laughed."

"I don't believe that."

"Maybe it's time you start believing it. Killers have eyes and souls and sometimes they look at you and sometimes they feel sick but they kill anyway. They kill things with souls and sometimes they kill things that look back at them with eyes like that rat's. So get used to it, Potter."

Harry frowned uneasily.

"It has to happen," said Draco softly. "If you want revenge, if you want to win… You kill. Anyway, I seem to remember you being all too ready to kill _me_."

"That was different. You're more like a cockroach than anyone else I can think of."

"You must have quite the affinity for cockroaches then," Malfoy said coldly. "Am I infesting in your mind?" He smiled at the look of shock on Harry's face. "Hmm, it seems I am, and I think you rather enjoy it."

With a glare, Harry snatched the squirming rat out of Draco's hand. He placed it in front of him and pointed his wand at it. "_Avada Kedavra_," he said steadily.

Nothing. Harry repeated the words several times while Draco held the rat still. Again and again he said it, but the rat remained very much alive and Harry gave a sigh of impatience.

"Is it the eyes, Potter?" taunted Draco. "Are they looking at you again?"

"When it comes time that I must really kill," Harry said, almost to himself, "I will rip their eyes out first. That way they won't even _think_ of looking at me."

The darkness in these words caught Draco off guard and he was speechless. He waited for Harry to add something like "Just kidding", but Harry did not add anything. He looked at Draco and said, "Let's see you try it, shall we?"

"Fine, Potter." 

But Draco could get nothing, no matter how many times he cried the words. He threw his wand down in frustration. "This is madness!" exclaimed Draco. "Something must be wrong! The spell isn't even _working_. I mean, honestly! Before at least _something_ happened. Sure, instead of killing you I killed a rat, but really, anyone could make that mistake." Harry was smiling. "What's so funny?" Draco snapped.

"You. I always thought you were some big expert on the dark arts. That's how you act. But…you're not, are you? Look at how upset you are. You can't even kill a rat. Not twice, anyway."

"How many times must I tell you that _Avada Kedavra_ is not a walk in the park?"

"So you'd have me believe."

"It's the truth! The Killing Curse is difficult. It's not something to be done lightly. Get that through your thick head. _Avada Kedavra_ is not a piece of cake."

"Why do you keep doing that?" asked Harry, exasperated.

"What?"

"Using weird sayings. Walk in the park. Piece of cake. It's really annoying."

Draco stared at him. "You are the most idiotic person I have ever met."

"Likewise," said Harry, although he really did not think Draco was idiotic in the least. He was frightening, perhaps, arrogant and strange, but also clever and conniving, in all the best and worst ways. 

"Look," Harry said. "We've been here an hour and we haven't even had any showy sparks. Maybe we should…" He paused, suddenly feeling uncertain. "Er. I don't know. Work together. If we both pointed our wands at the rat, if we both whispered _Avada Kedavra_…"

"The Killing Curse is a solitary act," Draco said flatly, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. 

"You can't know that for sure."

"I do. If we even had a chance of pulling it off we'd have to have the same goals, equal purposes, identical minds… And in case you haven't noticed, we're not exactly,"- Draco cleared his throat -"two peas in a pod." He deliberately emphasized the saying, smiling as Harry sighed in annoyance. "Although," added Draco, "we're more alike than _you'd_ ever admit."

"Yes, we are," agreed Harry, much to Draco's surprise. "At least, we are in this moment. We both want to succeed in this spell, we both want to be able to do this, no matter what." Harry steadied his gaze. "This isn't just my issue, Malfoy, it's yours too. You need to be able to pull this off. What would your father say if he knew how incompetent you're capable of being? Maybe the question isn't so much what he'd _say_ as what he'd _do_. Lucius Malfoy is not someone I'd call a nice man. Why do I get the feeling that he already thinks you can perform the Killing Curse effortlessly?"

"Ooh," crowed Draco. "Manipulation! You're learning, Potter. You really are."

Harry frowned. Was Malfoy right? Was he really being manipulative, simply stating a fact he thought would set Malfoy off? Yes, that was manipulation, but was manipulation to be condemned? Not, Harry decided, when it was being used for good. Successfully pulling off the spell, even with Malfoy's help, would bring Harry one step closer to avenging Sirius Black, one step closer to being the hero everyone was waiting for him to truly become. 

After all, killers kill but so do heroes. And Harry knew deep down that no matter how much his morals were praised outwardly, inwardly the wizarding world wanted blood. Casualties were increasing and the so-called strange disappearances were now so commonplace they could hardly be called strange. The numbers were piling up. The days of praising strength of heart and strong values were drawing to a close. 

It was action that mattered now, Harry knew, action and justice and a righteous deliverance from evil. A deliverance that called for blood and the purification of a screwed up world, no matter what means were used to achieve this purification. 

The world was calling for a new sort of hero and nobody was stepping up, not the idolized celebrities and Quidditch players, nor the Ministry. Even Dumbledore was lying low, conducting his own affairs against Voldemort in secrecy.

Harry had never asked to be a hero. He had never asked for the adoration of fans, or the admiration from the wizarding world. He hadn't wanted this, not originally, but life seemed to care very little for what Harry wanted. So here he was, and Sirius was dead and now the world was asking him to prove that his hero status was not a fluke, and dammit, he _wanted_ to prove it, not just for the world but for himself. 

He wanted the danger and the darkness and the thrill, and if he turned out to be nothing but one more lost teenager… There would be nothing left but unfulfilled cravings for vengeance and danger and a darkness that would have no real outlet in the ordinary existence of a boy. The danger that Harry had grown used to could only thrive in the life of a hero or a villain. Right now, Harry seemed to be the former but everyday the two opposites seemed more and more the same.

"Let's try the spell together," Harry murmured finally. "I don't like you, Malfoy, but you said you would teach me and you're the only person I can turn to. Anyone else would…"

"Be appalled that the _noble_ Harry Potter dreamed of death?"

"I don't dream of it."

"They'd be shocked if they knew," said Draco confidingly. "The golden hero fading to a lackluster grey… The world's not ready for that. Not yet." 

"Please," Harry said, almost desperately. "Let's just try the spell together."

They both pointed their wands at the rat who was now magically bound to the desk. Then they looked sideways at each other.

"Er," said Harry. "Would it work better if we, I don't know…Maintained physical contact or something?"

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Is that a fancy way of saying you want to grope me? Nice try, Potter." He turned his gaze back to the rat. "Ready?"

"Yeah, okay. On three then."

Draco gave his nod of assent. "One."

"Two."

"Three."

"_Avada Kedavra_," they hissed, their words swimming together. 

It seemed a shadowed veil had lifted between their minds. Harry felt as if he and Draco were two puzzle pieces that someone was trying repeatedly to slam together. The dimness of the classroom was replaced by a golden light that was rapidly changing into the blinding green flames of _Avada Kedavra_. 

Suddenly Harry understood. They had done it, they had almost done it… The spell was here, lingering in a half space, almost fully formed, simply lurking in their-

Harry felt a chill run through him. The spell was lurking in their minds.

He stared, began to whisper hurriedly. "Move forward. Forward. _Forward_." He heard Draco echo his whispers. 

If only they could get it, if only they could push the beginning of the spell into existence, into a reality where it could take form and cause damage… Where were they now? Some shaky place in between action and reaction. Their minds were connected by the light of the Killing Curse and together they were trying to force the spell into being. 

_What's happening…_ Draco's words drifted through Harry mind. 

_Don't think about it! Concentrate! Get the spell out of your head! Force it to-_

But it was too late. With this exchange the light from a half-formed _Avada Kedavra_ began to fade. For a moment there was utter darkness and all Harry knew was Draco's mind next to his. He felt his own thoughts reach out and slip around Draco's, felt their minds not only meeting, but melding…

And then it was over and they were again in a dimly lit classroom. With a jolt Harry's mind left Malfoy's and he suddenly felt very much alone, frozen. Both boys stared at each other as if their eyes had never met before.

"I'm…cold," Draco said uncertainly, rubbing his hands together. He paused, shook himself. "I told you we were too different for the spell to work."

"But not as different as I thought we were. You told me that too," Harry said slowly. "It's almost worked, Malfoy. For a minute it was like we were one person. Do you know what? I'm cold as well. Your…your mind, your thoughts, it was almost as if they all belonged to-"

"Me."

"I was going to say me."

Shaky frowns. 

"My thoughts belong to no one, Potter, least of all you. I'm not even sure if they belong to myself." 

"Are you sure about that?" His voice was soft. "Are you sure that I didn't just claim your thoughts for my own, in the Killing Curse's light? That your thoughts are no longer possessed by me?"

Silent shivers.

"Perhaps it was your thoughts I claimed," Draco whispered. "Perhaps all your thoughts are mine and you won't ever even know it…"

"Oh, I'd know it," Harry said. 

They were cold. It was nighttime and the air would have been chilled, except that it was spiced with an unsatisfying warmth. 

They were cold and their minds were empty and their thoughts were bare and frozen.

"I'd know it."

Their lips met. 

It was need, plain and simple. It was cold, it was October, they were alone in their minds and they were half-frozen, just like the half-frozen curse they had almost brought to life.

They tried to bring each other to warmth again, chilled skin against chilled skin. They became heated with the friction between their bodies. They took in the other's breath, savoring. Harry could feel the world shredding to pieces around him, could sense the new world being built, a world casting shadows of green light. Harry thought for a moment that he could hear the ocean in Draco's breathing. Then, if he listened even harder, he could hear silence. A world of nothingness.

Death. 

They were building a world of death.

Harry shoved Draco away from him, suddenly and swiftly. Naturally, logic being what it is, a moment later they began kissing more feverishly than ever, ending up on the ground.

Their hands grasped folds of robes. The cloth seemed immaterial once they touched each other's skin, which was warm again. It was more real and substantial than anything else this night.

Draco's finger tips danced lightly across the scar on Harry's forehead. "And here," he murmured into Harry's mouth with what breath he had left, "here lies the scar that came to you as an infant, the scar that rendered you a god. A child to a god, in one swift breath…" 

He smiled. 

"Such a transformation," Draco went on, "all caused by one simple…jagged…line."

Draco dug his nails into the scar, began tracing along it's path. Harry winced as Draco coldly dragged his fingers down the scar. He didn't move away, only looked at Draco stonily.

"You're hurting me."

"I know," Draco replied absentmindedly. "You're flinching underneath me."

The scar was not very large but somehow the moment seemed to last forever. Harry felt his eyes and nose and lips diminished until all that seemed to exist of his face was a ghastly scar, and Draco's fingers tracing it, sending waves of pain and fire coursing through Harry's blood.

_Here lies the scar that came to you as an infant, the scar that rendered you a god._

"You think that I'm a god?" whispered Harry.

"No," replied Draco. "I think that you're a myth."

Sweat-drenched silence. Harry waited until Draco's fingers had left the scar, waited until the pain had subsided. When Draco moved his hand to Harry's waist however, Harry stood up and walked away. Draco stood up as well, watching. 

"Did I hurt you just now?" Draco asked, looking more curious than worried. "When I went over your scar?"

"Some."

"You didn't like it?"

"Didn't say that."

"No, you didn't." Then Draco said, almost brightly, "You were moaning."

Harry felt himself blush. He thought he might be sick. He hadn't been able to hear himself amidst the roaring flames in his mind. It thoroughly disturbed him, the idea that his mind and body had been so aflame, so disconnected, he could not even hear the sounds uttered from his own lips. He said, "We can't allow this, Malfoy."

"We just did." Draco liked seeing Harry glare.

"Well, pretend that we didn't. Pretend that between us there is nothing but hate."

"That's all there ever was in the first place. The funny thing is, our hate is so strong that it can even power-"

"If you say love I will destroy you."

"I wasn't going to say love," Draco said, petulant. "I was going to say desire. Never chalk desire up to love, Potter."

Harry sighed. Mentioning love around Draco Malfoy. Never good. "Look," said Harry wearily. "Let's just forget about this."

"Ah, I see," said Draco. "This song and dance once more. Pretend there's nothing here but cold indifference. Liar."

"You're telling me you _want_ there to be something more between us?!" cried Harry. "You're telling me you, you _like_ this?" 

"I like anything that makes you feel like you're in hell, Potter."

And, Harry had to admit, he did feel like he was in hell. Only he also felt like hell was the most wonderfully exciting and addictive place around.

Harry turned his attentions back to Draco. "So you're only doing this," he said, not quite sure what 'this' was, "to get me upset?"

Draco nodded and Harry shook his head in disbelief. "Right, Malfoy. Don't lecture me about being a liar. What you just said is a lie if I've ever heard one."

"Come now, don't flatter yourself. I only kiss you because it kills you."

"And you're too weak and incompetent to kill me with a wand or a knife or even with your own hands."

"That's not true. It's simply more fun this way, like a round of torture, watching you die a little each time I touch you…"

"Is that what you mistake the look of disgust for? Death?" A pause. "I mean it this time, Malfoy. Don't touch me again. You want to kill me, do it with your own wand. Until then, don't lay a finger on me."

"Fine," said Draco airily. "See how long you can stand it. See how long until you crack. We can make it a game." Draco gave Harry a particularly malicious smile. "If you're done with this routine, shall we try doing the Killing Curse together again? We almost had it, I could sense it, Potter."

Harry shook his head. "No more."

Draco looked surprised. "Ever?"

"No, just tonight. Tomorrow we will come here again and practice. But we won't practice together, only side by side."

"I thought you wanted to master the spell! We were so close-"

"Yes, we were," said Harry, and Draco realized he didn't mean the spell. "We were _too_ close and that's not going to happen again. We'll take turns killing the rats and we'll watch each other and learn from each other but we will _not_ touch one another unless the touch is to kill."

"Every single time I touch you, it's to kill," Draco murmured softly. Harry said nothing, only looked at Draco before finally gathering up the invisibility cloak. He walked out the door.

"Eleven o'clock tomorrow?" Draco called after him.

"Midnight," Harry shot back and then he threw on the cloak and was gone.

~~~

Harry was annoyingly true to his word. He didn't touch Draco, didn't speak to Draco except when it was necessary, and he refused to perform _Avada Kedavra_ with Draco's help. Every time Harry even considered saying the spell with Draco, he saw again a world of death and darkness. More frightening yet, he remembered how it felt to be so close to Draco's mind, his thoughts, his wishes… He had felt as if he could simply reach out and scoop the dreams from Malfoy's head.

There was a feeling of too much power and the scariest part of all was that Harry was _drawn_ to it. The magnetic pull had become so strong, Harry was terrified and decided that he would never set himself in such a situation again.

Despite a few feeble protests, on the whole Draco was relieved that they didn't try the spell together again. He had been lost in that moment, settled into a confusion. They had not performed the spell correctly, yet even in a half-formed state, the Killing Curse had wound their minds together in a loop. If their minds had been so close after performing the spell _incorrectly_, what would happen if they did it right? Draco had a suspicion that their minds might just become one in the same, and the thought of losing so much control scared him witless, kept him awake at night.

It was only fear that stopped them from repeating their cooperation on the Killing Curse, although they would never admit this to each other. 

Months went by and still they were unsuccessful. Night after night they would meet, try the spell, and fail. Sometimes they would not try the spell at all. They would bring their homework to the small classroom, do it in the silence of each other's company.

Other times they would look up from their parchment and stare at one another, as if having a captivating conversation without saying a word. Harry grew to almost enjoy these evenings, even though they were not always the most productive. 

Harry also knew that if he did not show up each night, even if their meeting was for but a minute, it would be like losing to Malfoy. He did not forget Draco's comment about the game between them. Who could go the longest without cutting the tension between them, who could go the longest without breathing in the other's scent? How long could they last without the other's touch, taste, without the other's assaults or caresses?

Harry and Draco showed up at the empty classroom each night, as if proving to each other that they had withstood another day and were none the worse. The looks they exchanged were never of longing, only of a quiet intensity. If there was any strong desire between them, and there surely was, they admitted it only to themselves and never to each other. 

Harry eventually told Ron and Hermione about Sirius Black's death. They were upset. They cried. Harry did too, once, but he never felt like that was enough. Ron vowed that the Death Eaters who did this would pay, and Hermione added with a sniffle that she was sure the Ministry would find out what had happened and find whoever had murdered Sirius. Strangely, The Daily Prophet did not once mention Sirius's death. Harry, Ron and Hermione all found this very suspicious.

"I can't think of why they wouldn't mention it," Hermione said thoughtfully, one early evening in the common room. It was the beginning of March, months after Sirius had died. "I mean, even though Snuffles… I mean, Sirius," she added, remembering that there was no need for security now, "even though Sirius never got his name cleared, it's still a big deal, isn't it? He was a killer on the loose, after all. People would want to know that he's…" She lowered her voice to what she hoped was a respectful tone.. "That he's dead. They'd be relieved, feel a bit more safe."

Ron's eyes lit up. "Or _maybe_," he gushed, "_maybe_ Sirius isn't even dead! Maybe Dumbledore only said that to make it so Sirius had even less chance of being found. Or maybe Dumbledore just _thinks_ Sirius is dead but really he's alive and he'll turn up soon! Maybe that's why the Prophet hasn't reported anything!" Ron looked up triumphantly. "Because there _isn't any body_!"

Harry looked away quickly. Hermione fixed Ron with a stern look and he deflated, looking down at the floor. 

"Never mind," Ron mumbled. 

Harry excused himself to bed earlier than usual that night. He threw on the invisibility cloak and came back down to the common room. Ron and Hermione still sat by the fire, talking over their homework, absentmindedly holding hands. Harry smiled and his gaze drifted to Ginny, who was sitting with several friends from her year, Colin Creevey among them. Harry quietly tiptoed over.

"Wait until you see these, just wait!" Colin was saying enthusiastically. He was opening a book, and from it spilled many photographs which littered the table. Harry saw Ginny's eyes widen.

"D'you like them?" said Colin, bouncing on the balls of his feet before sitting down again. "I think they're rather fetching myself! But of course," he added modestly, "I took them."

"These…" Ginny began as several girls in her year giggled behind their hands. "These are all of _me_?"

"Most of them!" Harry craned his neck . They were indeed of Ginny, Ginny smiling nervously, or concentrating hard in class, or laughing, or bent over her homework. Harry had never been in a class with Ginny and it felt strange to watch her gazing into space as McGonagall lectured the fifth year students.

"I've never had a picture taken of just me, alone," Ginny said softly, gazing at herself. "There were always so many other people around."

"_Never_ had a picture of you, just by yourself?" exclaimed Colin, as if this were akin to not liking chocolate. "Gee. Well, now you have dozens!"

"Wow, Colin." Ginny was beaming. "Wow. This is just so impressive!"

Harry thought it was rather creepy himself. 

Still, he was glad to see Ginny happy. He was aware that on occasion he did neglect her. He made a note to spend more time with her, but this thought slid away as he slipped out of the Gryffindor common room when another student entered. He turned several corners and hurried down stairs until he reached the second floor. This was where Dumbledore's office resided, and this was where Harry and Draco often met as it was nearly always completely empty, solitary in its silence. It was also only one staircase away from the classroom they used. The boys had decided never to meet in the abandoned classroom. They were wary of drawing attention to the place.

Draco stepped out from behind a statue as he spotted Harry, and Harry threw the invisibility cloak over them both. It was a few minutes before ten o'clock.

"You're very early," Draco said into Harry's ear.

"So are you." 

They began walking to the staircase when Harry grabbed Draco's wrist and stopped him. "Shh," he said. "Listen." Angry voices floated down the echoing hall, and Harry and Draco both clearly heard someone say "Potter".

They backtracked down the hallway until they got to Dumbledore's office. Next to the stone gargoyle stood Dumbledore and Professor Lupin. Harry looked on in surprise. He had not seen Lupin at all in the months since Sirius's death.

"I _won't_ leave, Professor!" Lupin was saying, in a hushed but angry voice. "He has to know, I'll tell him myself-"

"_No_," said Dumbledore, looking anxious. "Remus, I appreciate your concern in the boy but we cannot do this to him! Now we've discussed this quite enough in my office, if you would kindly-"

"Harry has every right to know! He was his _godfather_, for God's sake! The only true family he had." Draco felt Harry tense.

"I refuse to place such a burden on Harry," said Dumbledore. "It would only confuse his loyalties. This incident has confused even my own!"

"You have no loyalties to anything but the truth, Professor."

"I wish it was that simple. I have pledged my loyalties to a cause, Remus. Please try to understand that."

"A _cause_?" replied Lupin sarcastically. "Do you truly think the Ministry is worth all that?"

"The Ministry is a well-meaning, albeit muddled, organization." Dumbledore took on a pained expression. "I disagree with it, yes. It infuriates me, true. But my dear boy, at the moment it's all we've got! If we do not keep the Ministry on our side, if we do not stay united, we might as well give up right now."

"The Ministry is a joke!" cried Remus, angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "Sirius was an important aid against Voldemort, he captured several Death Eaters and delivered them to you in the past year. Don't you value such an important source? A source which is now _gone_ because of them?!"

"Of course I valued Sirius, but what's done is done, Remus. My focus now lies in uniting our forces against Voldemort. Harry is an important part of that force. If the boy is not behind my plans, if he's not there to rally the people into coming together and fighting…"

"Surely you don't plan on putting Harry into such a position of leadership."

"I plan on nothing, Remus. Harry is an individual and it would be foolish to base my plans on choices that are his. However, I do believe strongly that with him as a figurehead for our side, people will unite. They see so much in Harry. He represents hope to them, he represents the end of dark times and the beginning of light. He's represented such ever since he was one year old. If he is not on our side, one hundred percent-"

"On _our_ side or the Ministry's side, you mean?" snapped Lupin. "Sirius Black is dead because of them."

"It really was not all the Ministry's fault," said Dumbledore calmly. "If only I had tried harder, convinced them… Because I did try, you know." And for a moment Dumbledore looked very sad. "I tried to tell them and I tried to warn Sirius… They didn't believe me. They didn't believe that Sirius was on our side, refused to understand that sometimes not everything is black and white."

"And because the Ministry is colorblind, Sirius is dead," Lupin murmured softly. "They didn't even listen to you, Professor! They couldn't believe the story, they wouldn't believe in one of my very best friends. Killed in cold blood because they thought him to be a threat. And then they cover the whole thing up! Even the Prophet was bribed not to discuss it, not to spread any rumors… Professor, the Ministry is corrupt! How can you support them after what they've done?" 

"I give them my allegiance because without them, we are _dead_. Or worse! How many times must I tell you that? What will it take to make you understand?!"

Lupin looked down in the face of Dumbledore's anger. "All right. I won't question your trust in the Ministry, though I by no means agree with it. Just…Please. Tell Harry. He deserves to know what happened to Sirius. We owe at least that to old Padfoot's memory, don't you think?"

"The truth will do nothing but confuse him," said Dumbledore more patiently. "I need Harry on our side. You can separate yourself from the Ministry if you like, Remus, but Harry cannot. He's too important, too vital to our fight. I won't allow you to make him question his place in the scheme of things."

"So you will lie to him," said Lupin coldly. "Fine! Fine. I won't say a word to Harry, but I want you to know that I'm completely against all of this."

"Please," said Dumbledore wearily, "keep your voice down. Let me escort you to your carriage." 

They walked away together and Harry held his breath until their footsteps could no longer be heard. He could feel Draco's eyes scrutinizing him. 

"What?" Harry hissed as he turned around.

"Do you want to go to our classroom?" asked Draco, almost kindly. 

"Yeah, okay." Harry's eyes seemed to be burning but he said the words casually.

They walked up to the classroom which they now thought of as their own It had a lived-in feel to it, rolls of parchment and spilt bottles of ink, a few spare robes for the occasions when Harry or Draco would accidentally fall asleep in the tiny room. 

"You okay, Potter? It doesn't really make a difference of course, but…Well, are you?"

"Do you have any idea how difficult it was just then," said Harry, his voice completely steady, "not to take out my wand and kill Dumbledore right there, on the spot? I would have, I think. If I knew how to perform the Killing Curse, Dumbledore would be dead on the floor right now."

Draco tried to laugh. "Please. Dumbledore is so old you don't even need a spell to finish him off. You could jump out at him in a clown costume and he'd die of fright." Draco chuckled at the imagery but Harry remained somber.

"He lied to me, Malfoy! Do you know, that hurts worse than knowing Sirius is dead? Sirius didn't even die the honorable death he deserved. He died at the hands of the Ministry. Dumbledore always told me they were _good_."

"It's propaganda," said Draco. He felt a fierce anger as he watched the helpless expression on Harry's face. "All of it. You heard it yourself. Dumbledore needs you to think the Ministry is some blessed home of truth or whatever. He needs you to lead the way in his fight."

"Why me?" Harry asked, his voice cracking. "Why me?"

"Because you're Harry Potter," Draco said simply.

"Bloody brilliant reasoning, that is. I had faith in Dumbledore, I trusted him to no end and…That's all gone now. _All_ of it." Harry kicked a chair and it toppled over. For a moment he wanted to run to Draco, wanted to grab him and watch this world fall apart as they built a new one together. Why couldn't he just give up on this world?

He said none of this to Draco, only glowered and muttered "Let's find some rats or something."

"You're not concentrating," reprimanded Draco. "Your mind is all over the place. You could never perform the spell tonight."

"It's not like it makes much of a difference," said Harry. "We've been trying for months and still haven't succeeded." 

Draco sighed. "Why don't you…I don't know. Go back to your Gryffindors. Talk to your little pals, let them pat you on the back. I'm being sincere, Potter. I think that's what you need." 

"What I need is you," Harry said quietly.

His eyes rose to meet Draco's. A quiet fury and need lurked within them.

Draco looked down. "Please don't say that."

"Why not?"

"Because the moment you start talking like that, I know we're in trouble. You hate me, remember?"

"Yes. But hate is something I understand. It's clear and simple. Everything else I'm feeling now… It's so complicated, endless…" Harry shook himself. "Dumbledore was right. I'm not ready to deal with this."

"Don't say that." There was true anger in Draco's voice. "Dumbledore is _not_ right. Dumbledore is an idiot. Dumbledore is a manipulative man and Dumbledore is wrong about you. He's underestimated you. Do you know that's the most dangerous thing you can do? It's one thing to underestimate your enemies, but _never_ underestimate your friends." 

"But I wasn't his friend, don't you see? I was his project, the clay with which he molded some stupid symbol. And the Ministry! They claim to have such high morals, claim to be on the side of right, yet they've murdered Sirius without a second glance and Dumbledore has lied to me. He said it was Death Eaters. I'm sick of playing to the role which they've cast me in!"

Draco watched Harry cautiously. It was disturbing to hear the less than eloquent Harry Potter rattle off metaphors with ease, and it was equally disturbing to see him so visibly shaken. Draco remained silent.

"Well?!" cried Harry. "Why so quiet? I'd think you'd be bursting with I-told-you-so's and criticisms. After all, you were right. All I've been living in is a hero's dream world. Isn't that what you said? Tell me Malfoy, did you take into account what it would be like for me to wake up out of that dream?"

"No," said Draco. "But I suspect it's like a nightmare."

"It's worse than that, because it's all reality. There's nothing to awaken from in reality, and real life is tougher than _any_ nightmare." Harry glared. "Are you glad I've woken up, Malfoy? Have you been waiting for this day so that you could laugh in my face?"

"Ha. Ha," said Draco dryly. "Potter, you're getting too worked up." Watching Dumbledore's greatest fan twist himself into a frenzy of anger was not as much fun as it sounded. "Go back to your little tower, get some rest."

"No. We're going to get the spell to work, once and for all."

"What if the only way to get it to work is to try it together again?"

Harry frowned, torn.

"Exactly," said Draco. He paused. "I'm going to bed. Meet me outside the Great Hall after supper tomorrow."

Harry looked so startled that for a moment he forgot to look angry. "After supper?"

"I've got something planned."

"A romantic getaway?" Harry scoffed.

Draco actually smiled. "Something like that."

~~~

The sun was setting when Harry met Draco that night. It was not a glorious sunset, but a sunset that seemed stuck in between the tail of Winter and the awkward start of Spring. The grey lining of the sky now had a slightly rosy tint, but besides that it certainly was nothing too spectacular.

Harry caught his breath anyway.

Draco was skimming the clouds on a broomstick, flashes of golden-white hair catching the dying sunlight. When an errant breeze hit him, Draco only grinned and flew straight into it.

Harry stared. He had rarely, if ever, seen Malfoy flying above him. In the Slytherin matches against houses other than Gryffindor, Harry was too busy watching for weaknesses to really look, to really _see_ Draco fly.

Suddenly, Draco glanced down. His eyes met Harry's and a moment later he sped out of sight.

Harry blinked, dumbfounded. Did Malfoy want to meet or not? 

Five minutes later Harry caught sight of Draco once more. He was holding something and as he drew closer Harry recognized it. It was his own broomstick.

He grabbed Draco by the collar as soon as he landed. "Where did you get that?! It's _mine_."

"From your room. The window was open. I flew in. I found it."

"You went through my stuff?!"

"Like I haven't before. How do you think I got the invisibility cloak from you?"

"So you were in my room. Going through my belongings."

"Oh, don't throw a fit." Draco quickly changed the subject, not anxious to recount the night he slept next to Harry in his bed. He didn't want to speak of those flickering images and emotions, not to himself and definitely not to Harry. He threw the broom at Harry, hard, but Harry caught it. "In any case, you were just brimming with glowering anger yesterday. Fun as it was to watch, it's not very productive. I won't have your little temper tantrums distracting me from carrying out _Avada Kedavra_ correctly. I thought a bit of flying might help you relax." He added casually, "I'd be coming along."

"You? Well, if you're there, then there's no chance of relaxation."

"Do I excite you that much, Potter?" Draco gave a wicked smirk.

"Shut up. I _meant_ that you were stressful." A pause. "Do you remember," said Harry suddenly, "when we were up there before and we started to, er, fight." That had been less than a year ago? Why did it seem as if that had happened in another life time?

"Of course I remember."

"I...I don't want to do that again, Malfoy. I promised myself that I wouldn't."

Draco gave a sigh of impatience. "Potter, I'm alone with you in a dark room just about every night. If I wanted a snog I think I'd have taken my chances by now!"

But Harry still looked uncertain. He was remembering the boundless sky, the way the world had seemed a translucent mirror within Malfoy's eyes...

He wasn't sure if he was ready for that again. He looked up at Draco, uncertain.

"Get on the broom," Draco ordered. 

"You can't tell me what to do." But Harry reluctantly mounted his broom and took off, Draco following shortly behind him. Higher and higher they went, until the clouds and the sky were swallowing them whole and they became nothing more than a vagrant ray of the setting sun.

Harry squinted down at the ground. The world there seemed to be made of bits and pieces, a nonsensical mess of dots that never formed a whole. That was the problem with it, thought Harry, you could never see the big picture in a world where every human insisted on painting their own separate design. 

In the sky everything was precise and full. The picture here made sense with a perfect simplicity, while the canvas of the world below burned away into oblivion. The sky did not make Harry forget; rather it made everything he remembered seem worth forgetting. 

Draco was laughing at the dying day, soaking in the uncertain March air. His laugh was contagious and Harry began to grin.

"Do you see," said Draco, "how desolate everything is on the ground? Empty and bare?"

"Yeah," replied Harry with a smile. "And up here in the sky, everything seems so full of life and yet we are the only ones living!"

"Not the _only_ ones living," Draco corrected with a playful grin.

"Who else?" Harry cried out happily. "Who else breathes this air but us?"

"Well, there are always the birds," said Draco teasingly. He gestured with one hand to a far away flock of geese who were passing by noisily. 

"Not any more." Harry grinned to Draco and pointed his wand easily at one of the geese. "_Avada Kedavra!"_ he called out, still grinning. 

There was a rush of green light and suddenly the wind seemed to increase, just a bit. Harry and Draco watched, transfixed, as a black dot flying across the horizon suddenly froze in it's place and began to plummet. 

Down and down it fell, until it disappeared from view. 

The two boys listened in silence to the upset squawks of the rest of the flock. After a moment, the geese began to pump their wings faster. They were not sure what had happened to their fallen comrade, but they sure weren't going to wait around to find out. 

"I killed it," said Harry numbly. He was staring forward, mouth slightly opened. "I saw the color of it's feathers. I saw the words and it's wings were flapping and then they weren't and- And I could see it's wings, Draco." 

A beat. 

"But not it's eyes."

"No." Scarcely audible. "No, not it's eyes."

They watched as the geese traveled swiftly along the horizon.

"Want to have a go, then?" Harry asked suddenly, almost lightly.

"What?" said Draco, taken by surprise.

"At the geese. I reckon they'll be out of range soon."

"You mean you want me to-"

"Yes. Kill one of them. That is unless," Harry's voice was carefully neutral, "you don't think you can manage it."

Draco frowned, then turned to the flock of geese. He took his wand and pointed it at one of them. He could feel Harry's eyes, boring into the back of his neck. He felt the fierce edge of a contest that had goaded him into years of despising Harry, a competitive hatred that was relentlessly egged on by his fellow Slytherins and his own father. It had been a competition that Draco had wholeheartedly embraced because it was the only thing, besides himself, that interested Draco in the least. 

Harry was watching him. Harry was testing him. Harry had killed and Draco knew word for word the question which Harry was wondering.

Could Draco keep up? 

He took a deep breath and felt a moment of clarity. "_Avada Kedavra_," Draco murmured into a wisp of cloud. 

The two boys watched in a trance as a second bird fell, its wings at its side. There was another chorus of startled squawks, and then a trill of rapidly beating wings. 

Draco tried to get his mouth to move, tried to make some scathing, mocking remark. No sound came from his lips, it seemed all words had left him, had burnt themselves to a crisp inside his throat. They died in the sky, just like that bird had.

Helplessly, Draco turned to face Harry, but Harry was already beside him, seizing Draco's mouth roughly with his own. Harry's arm slipped around Draco's neck, his breath snatching away the ashes of all the words Draco had hoped to say. 

Dusk fell and the remaining birds flew away.

* * *

If you'd like to be notified when the next chapter is up at fanfiction.net, go to http://www.theburrow.com/sky.html . If you have a moment, please review. :) 


	6. Free Fall

**Author Note:** Lots and lots of thanks to betas Amalin and Maya, and also to Christy (because all of them rock unbelievable amounts). Thanks to Rhi for *still* listening to me babble. Youko Gingitsune, djiinxx, Portuguese-GirL, El, AshFarley, Aja, Elanor Odd Socks (that is the coolest name ever), Draco Malfoy-N-Harry Potter, Kearie, SlytherinG, Morgan, deadredsocks, Sheron, Shades, M, Anne Phoenix, Mistress Tinsel, Reena, mandraco, Hope-Leer, Serendipity, earthquake, Nmissi, Kimby, Arca, Arwena, Lasair, Absinthe, and email reviewers…Thank you so much for the feedback, it really helps a lot. You all deserve cupcakes. With that in mind, I respectfully ask you not to kill me. 

Chapter 6: Free Fall

I researched the moment because I needed to know and I needed to know because I wanted to know and I need what I want and I want what I need and that's how I've always been. 

I was curious, that was all. I wanted to know what happened in the moment when we did the Killing Curse together and suddenly we were _one_. And I don't mean that in a trashy novel sort of way, where the torn lovers finally get their hands on each other and become "one" and then experience all sorts of astonishingly perfect moments of truth. We were the same, two minds in one, thoughts wrapping themselves together, when we both whispered _Avada Kedavra_ at the same moment. 

I never thought I'd open my mind so willingly to Harry Potter. A couple of years ago, I wouldn't have dreamt of it. I was in an endless competition with the hero of Hogwarts, and I would never have thrown away everything just to do a silly spell. Images and dreams, truths that sound like lies and lies that sound like truths… I was sure that I'd never reveal all that to Harry. It would be like losing to him.

I guess I stopped caring about losing when the geese fell out of the sky. Any control I might have had, it's all gone. Harry Potter suddenly seems very different. Everything suddenly seems very different. When people speak to me it sounds awkward, as if they're swallowing their words halfway. When people look at me, it always seems they're looking at a point right past my eyes. After it happened I tried to talk to Crabbe and Goyle, but my own voice sounded strangled and almost comical. 

We watched the birds die together. I don't know if I've ever been more scared. I told myself for so long that I wasn't afraid of power, that you have to do whatever it takes to achieve it. So why was it that when I held all that power in my hands, I'd never felt weaker? I lose myself in too much power, it overwhelms my senses. 

It isn't like that with Harry. He glows with it, the newfound power. His steps become more assured, his gaze becomes more steady. Before, when he flew in the sky he always looked as if he knew the sky owned him. Now he flies as though he owns the sky. I think. Perhaps not. Perhaps I'm just making things up, perhaps I watch him too closely. I always was too concerned with him, wanting the best for him, wanting the worst for him, wanting anything but normalcy for Harry Potter. 

Because I thought I was destined for great things and I _knew_ Harry was and so I thought, why make things easy for the idiot? But now I think that maybe I'm wrong, maybe it was just supposed to be Harry who did great and fearsome things, and maybe I was supposed to be left behind, cast aside in the dust while Harry went forth and changed the world and changed me without ever asking if that was what I wanted.

I'm afraid of that. Harry Potter is _not_ better than me. I thought maybe, if we whispered the spell together, if our minds became one…

I want to steal his greatness. 

I hope there's some left.

~~~

When the sun collapsed around them they closed their eyes and pretended not to notice. Harry was crying.

Draco could feel Harry's tears sliding down his own cheek, a shocking sensation that distracted him from their kiss. He didn't think that was fair. If Harry must cry, then Harry should be the one scalded by the tears, not Draco. He felt one of Harry's tears fall into his eye and he winced.

He moved Harry away, not roughly but firmly. Then Draco wiped Harry's tears off of his own cheek with the back of his arm.

"Sorry," muttered Harry. He was too confused to worry about the fact that he was apologizing to Draco Malfoy, too confused to worry about anything other than that his mind was whirling, that his heart was pounding, and that he was _crying_. 

Draco looked at him. He appeared almost annoyed but he sighed heavily and reached out again, his hand closing upon Harry's shoulder.

"Come on," he said, his eyes looking at anything but Harry. "This is no time for tears." 

"We did it, Draco."

"Yes. Exactly. That's _good_."

Harry's eyes fell to the dizzying ground below. In his mind he saw the bodies of the two geese, feathers bloodied from the fall, bodies mangled, the dying reflection of green light hidden in their eyes…

"Stop that!" Draco cried. "Stop looking at the ground. The ground doesn't matter, remember? This is what matters, this simplicity, the open-ended- Honestly, this is no time for one of my eloquent speeches, Potter. Just look up, will you?" 

Harry paid him no mind. He was staring at the ground. "I think I can see them, Draco," he muttered into Draco's ear. "I think I can see their bodies."

"Stop being an idiot. Look _up_." Draco grabbed Harry's chin and forced it up. Harry focused on the sky and Draco could see white pinpoints of light reflected in his eyes. "You see," he said, when Harry was silent. "That simplicity never left. You didn't disrupt the sky. The geese are gone and this place is ours again. Remember that. This is a kingdom and we rule it."

"All of it?" Harry's voice was a breath slipping through Draco's hair.

"All of it."

"The stars are still there," Harry said, almost dreamily. "I wasn't sure they would be."

"What, did you think they'd disappear?" Draco asked with a smirk. His eyes widened as Harry looked away. "You _did_, didn't you?"

"It's not that I thought they'd disappear," Harry said very quickly, blushing. "They're just… so still, Draco. They haven't moved, not even after everything that happened. They're just staring down at us, they don't even _blink_ at an act of so much destruction. I just thought-"

"That God himself would strike you down? Did you think that the seas would turn red, the sky would turn black, that hell would swallow you up? Just because you killed a bird, you think the Apocalypse is going to pay _you_ a personal visit? Potter, the world doesn't revolve around you." 

"How do you know? Perhaps…perhaps it does."

"Modest as always, Potter."

"It's not like that. Sometimes I just feel like if I take one wrong step, if I mess up or change or go the wrong way… Maybe the world _would_ end Draco. For me, at least."

"The world ends for everybody one day, hero or killer. The stars end for no one."

Harry looked away. "I'm just glad that they're still there, that's all. Okay?"

"All right," said Draco, feeling too emotionally drained to argue. "I'll leave you with your heroic illusions. See how long they last on the ground." 

"We should be getting back," Harry muttered reluctantly. "I don't want the others to worry."

"They haven't noticed that you're missing from bed night after night?"

"I leave after they're asleep, usually. And only for a few hours."

"Last week," Draco said languidly, "you fell asleep in the classroom and didn't wake up until dawn."

Morning light, dancing over Harry's features as he slept in a knobby old school chair. Spring light dotting his features with silver. Draco shivered.

"I know," Harry said, oblivious. "I got back before Ron woke up. They know though, I think, that there's something… They see me falling asleep in class, or notice the way I blank out when they're talking to me. They're not stupid, Draco, not like Crabbe and Goyle are. I have to be careful around them."

"And me," said Draco, ignoring the insult to Crabbe and Goyle. "Do you have to be careful around me too? What secrets are you hiding from me, Harry Potter?"

"Nothing."

"Yes, that's right." Draco looked so smug that for a moment Harry wanted to knock him off his broom and send him falling to the earth.

Instead he gritted his teeth and began to spiral downward toward that earth, where the blackness of the sky was more apparent than ever. Harry wondered why the starlight couldn't reach the ground.

He waited for Draco to land. Draco seemed to be taking his time, skating around clouds and exuberant winds carelessly, an empty expression on his face. Finally he landed next to Harry.

"You go inside first," Draco said to Harry. "I wouldn't be caught dead entering the Great Hall with you."

"I was going to fly up to my room but…Fine with me. If you'd prefer to wait here in the cold, I'll go first." Harry began to walk towards the dotted yellow candlelight of Hogwarts. "See you, Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" Draco called after Harry before he could stop himself. Shocked at how pitiful he sounded, Draco turned his face and began to walk away quickly. It was too late. Harry had turned around. His steps matched Draco's and he caught up to him. Harry took Draco's wrist in his hand and pulled him around so that they were facing each other. 

They stared. Then Harry let Draco's wrist drop and his hand fell to his side.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry quietly.

"In the sky," Draco began, and his voice faltered. Harry nodded for him to continue. "In the sky, you…Oh, this is pathetic."

Harry just looked at him.

"You called me Draco," Draco said, a barely noticeable emphasis placed on his own name, as if it didn't sound quite right to him. "Before."

Harry looked surprised. "Did I?"

"In the sky." He clung to those words, repeating them in his head like a mantra. "Several times."

"Oh," Harry said. "Yeah. I did, I guess. It doesn't matter, does it?" He felt Draco's eyes upon him, demanding more of an explanation. "That was different, I s'pose. Er. I mean, we weren't here, were we? We were in the sky."

Draco couldn't put into words why this affected him. Perhaps it wasn't just that Harry had said his name, it was the _way_ he had said it. Only that didn't make any sense. How _had_ Harry said his name? Draco couldn't place it. Now that his feet were firmly on the ground, the escapades in the sky seemed nothing but a strange dream that had never really ended, just as it had never really begun. 

"But we're back on the ground now," Harry went on. "I think what you said last year was true… In the sky we are equals. No, we're more than equals. We're…It's almost as if we're the same thing. Sort of like when we did the spell together." Harry did not say the name of the spell. Draco knew. By unspoken agreement, they rarely spoke of that incident when their minds and thoughts had seemed one. "We're the same person and we're not our surnames. You're called Draco and I'm called Harry, and that's it. We're on equal footing because we're not on any footing at all." Harry attempted a wry smile. "It's different, I guess."

"But on the ground…" Draco trailed off.

"On the ground _we're_ different." Harry paused awkwardly, then reached forward and took Draco's hands in his. Harry's hands were warm but Draco's were ice. Harry tightened his grip to heat them. "I thought you understood that. The way I feel toward you up there in the sky, it's…We're in power, in control. Here we're both lost, okay? On the ground I feel nothing for you but the old routine hatred, because the things we fight for, the people we believe in, it's all so different… Things are complicated here, all right? That's all."

It was only a name. Did you have a name, in a dream? Did those geese have names or were they only a forgotten element of Draco's mind, some equally nameless thing that came and went like a song?

Harry's eyes widened. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, of course," Draco snapped.

"You're…You're shaking."

He was trembling violently.

"No, no I'm not."

"Yes, you are! What wrong? Is it the…" _Avada Kedavra_. "What _is_ it?" Harry's grip on Draco's hands tightened further still. 

"Nothing. I'm fine." His fingertips were quivering against Harry's palm, like the wings of a trapped butterfly trying to escape. "Let go."

"No! Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm just shivering. I'm cold."

"Mal-" Harry stopped, then continued resolutely. "Malfoy, you're upset, you look like you're going to cry-"

"I'm _cold_. If I catch a chill and get a fever and die an agonizing death in bed, it'll be _you_ I'll blame, Potter."

"Tell me."

"Please." He sounded desperate. "Just let go." 

When Harry didn't do so, Draco twisted painfully out of his grasp. The two looked at each other for a brief moment.

"Fine," muttered Harry. "I'm going inside."

"Don't expect to see me anytime soon," said Draco.

"I hope I don't," Harry replied. He glanced at his broomstick, wondered briefly how he was going to explain his sudden disappearance to Ron and Hermione, then shrugged. Instead of walking to the Great Hall, he simply gave Draco one last angry glance, got on his broom and flew up to Gryffindor Tower. 

Draco watched him go. His trembling gradually subsided to an occasional chill that ran up his spine. 

Then, taking his broomstick, he walked to the Great Hall and then down the stairs to the dungeons, where the walls were closed and there was no sky. 

That was how Draco liked it.

~~~

Harry opened the window outside of his dorm room, pushed back the curtains, and stepped in. He began to walk from the dorm to the common room.

Ron was waiting for him at the doorway.

"What were you doing?" Ron's voice was accusing.

Harry stared. He seemed to be doing a lot of that these days.

"Yeah, you heard me," Ron went on, turning red. "It's been almost two hours since you got up and left the table without even a _word_, Harry."

"I'm sorry," said Harry simply.

"I don't think you are," said Ron. "Harry, what's been up with you? Hermione and I are really worried and Ginny thinks you're a lost cause."

"Ginny," said Harry softly.

"Yes, Ginny. You haven't been spending very much time with my sister," said Ron, and Harry could see that he was struggling to remain calm, an effort Ron rarely put forth. "Don't think I'm the only one who hasn't noticed. Colin Creevey's noticed too, and the thought of that git dating my sister… Harry, I know Sirius's death still hurts and all, but it's been months."

"Yeah."

"We're worried. I didn't want to bother you about it, but… It's just gotten really bad. I mean, Hermione even thinks you've been sneaking into Sprout's office."

Harry blinked. "Why would I do that?"

Ron's eyes shifted and then he leaned forward . "Well," he said, looking slightly embarrassed, "she thinks you've been trying out some of the herbs Sprout keeps there."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Ron!" 

"Well, _I_ know she's just being paranoid, but Harry, we've been waiting for you to start being…you again. And it's not happening."

"It's isn't exactly easy, Ron. I'm not _choosing_ to be this way."

"Look, just snap out of it, okay? You've seemed so empty lately. Just…Just get over it."

"Get over it?" Harry's voice was low. He gripped his wand, briefly toyed with the idea of using it, of finishing all these questions and all these uncertainties and finishing Ron.

He'd never do it, of course. Ron was his best friend. Yet all this doubt… Holding his wand Harry knew that no matter what, he had that little bit of power that he used to so severely lack, power he now clung to desperately in a situation where he couldn't even find the right words to say. 

Because even though he _wouldn't_ do the spell, he _could_ do the spell, and that gave Harry more control and confidence than words ever could.

He looked at Ron.

"Maybe get over it wasn't the right thing to say," Ron said nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "It's just… I miss you, Harry. I don't know where you just were-"

"Flying," Harry interrupted. "I was flying. That's where I am when I'm not with you or Hermione or Ginny. Sometimes everything seems so small here. I guess. When I fly I get away from it all. Everything is so simple." It was the truth in a way.

Ron looked immensely relieved and was nodding very enthusiastically. "Yeah! And Harry, I completely get that. Really." He nodded again. "It's only, you're my best friend. I miss… I miss copying homework with you and talking about Quidditch and laughing at Trelawney in Divination and just talking."

"I miss all that too, Ron," Harry said, his features softening. "I'll try to be here more for you. And for Hermione and Ginny too."

The boys smiled at each other.

"And now that we've got that out of the way," said Ron, still smiling, "I think we have some homework to copy."

"Of course." Harry grinned. "Always."

~~~

The moonlight filtered through the closed curtains and hit Draco directly in the eyes. He twisted his head away from it and felt a sudden sharp pang in his neck. Wincing and rubbing his neck, Draco buried himself beneath the piles of blankets on his bed, enfolding himself under the covers until they became a soft cocoon around his body. He was safe now, hidden from the stars and the sky, immersed in green material.

He closed his eyes but saw it again, the brief flash of light that had barely penetrated the bleeding sunset, the falling bird who never seemed to land, only fell again and again. It began the inevitable journey downward without ever hitting the ground.

Then another flash of green light, this one emitted from his own wand. Another senseless falling dot. He could hear the geese crying.

Draco's eyes opened with a snap. He found himself staring at the blankets around him. It was shadowy in the darkness, but he could still see the pale green tones. 

Draco had never realized how much Slytherin's green resembled the green of _Avada Kedavra_. Staring at the blanket, he ran his fingers harshly along the fabric. It rippled under his touch, but the deathly green color remained.

A house of killers, was that what Salazar Slytherin had sought to create? An army of green, minions to the shade of the Quidditch banners they waved. Draco remembered the faces of the Slytherins in the Quidditch stands, watching the game and silently reveling in the dramatic green robes their team wore as they darted about the Quidditch pitch. A house of killers, of evil-doers? If that's what Salazar had wanted, he had failed. The Slytherins were not evil, they did not enjoy killing. They enjoyed power perhaps, but who didn't? 

Still, Draco thought, perhaps so many Slytherin students were known for becoming "dark wizards" only because they were surrounded by that color, because they sensed that the color was one of death, and because they knew death was a form of power. When you became a Slytherin, that was what you were for seven years. It was you against the rest of the school, who saw the green color and so feared and hated you, without really knowing why. It didn't matter. The rest of the school could hate all of Slytherin if they wished. The Slytherins always rose to the challenge, hating back with a vengeance. They bore the green and silver proudly, ignoring the more garish colors of the other houses. They were Slytherins, that's what they told each other, forever and always. They defended their house and their color. For seven years.

So maybe you end up clinging to that color and maybe after seven years that color becomes a part of you. You go out into the real world, where nobody is given points for doing good, and nobody has uniforms that define their personality, no colors that separate them. It's confusing, chaotic. It's hell and you're still holding on to that Slytherin identity, and you see it for a moment in a flash of green light and so that's what you become. Because that light is green and powerful, and you were too, once upon a time. 

Stop shivering.

Maybe the Sorting Hat had never cared about your traits or personality or ambition. Maybe it just cared about your favorite color.

And that was pretty stupid, as theories went. Draco didn't even like green.

His thoughts were making no sense. It was almost three o'clock in the morning and Draco's words refused to fit together. All that remained in his mind were echoes of images, green skies and light and death.

The geese had died. The earth had swallowed them up at the command of two sixteen year old boys.

Silver fringe on green pillows and Harry's breath on his skin.

Stop shivering. Please.

~~~ 

"You're sure it's nothing else?"

"Completely. What else could it be?"

Silence.

"You don't believe me? See, it's the dot of green in the back of their eyes. You see it now?"

~~~

Harry awoke with a start, clutching his forehead. His dream flew away rapidly as he blinked into the wave of moonlight that hit him and shook him fiercely out of slumber. He had forgotten to close the curtains of his bed, that was how instantaneous sleep had been when he finally laid down that night. He had been afraid that sleep would not come to him, that he'd torture himself with thoughts and images. 

Only Harry had closed his eyes the moment his head had hit the pillow. A sound sleep? No. He'd been woken up by pain, a dream, a…

He wondered suddenly how Draco was doing. Was he crying? It was hard for Harry to imagine such an occurrence. He played with the picture in his mind. Did Draco's eyes become red? Did his face crumple up like a child's? Or were his tears silent, swift, unknowing in their fall?

Harry didn't want to see Draco cry. There had been tears in his eyes that night, but it was not the same as crying. Everybody had tears. Crying was a way of acknowledging the tears that were always there, paying a debt to the sadness or anger you might be feeling.

He hoped Draco wasn't crying. He hoped he was asleep, dreaming pleasant dreams of snowflakes or ice cream or… whatever it was Slytherins dreamed about.

"Here's to dreams of world domination, Draco Malfoy," Harry whispered into the night. That seemed appropriate. Perhaps a dream about world domination _while_ the sky dripped snowflakes made of ice cream.

Harry grinned to the ceiling. He was giddy. 

Part of him felt bad that he wasn't experiencing the angst or sorrow that Draco seemed to be feeling. Harry had spotted the sorrow right off, as soon as the birds had fell. It was in part what had made him break down as he had. It wasn't that they had performed _Avada Kedavra_, it was that Draco's eyes had been so transparent. Sorrow had a look to it, a hollow sort of shadow that filled your eyes until that was all you could see. Draco had had that look.

He wanted to make Draco stop feeling whatever sadness he felt, because no one deserved that, not even an enemy. No one deserved emptiness or grief.

But Harry couldn't worry for long. He was too relieved. He had killed a bird using an Unforgivable Curse and _nothing had happened_. His name was not plastered all over the Daily Prophet. He had not been expelled from Hogwarts. As of this moment, fire and brimstone had not yet rained down upon him.

Instead, as Draco once put it, Harry had held life and death in his very own hands. He had felt the control the spell had given him. 

Harry did not have that control anywhere else. Voldemort plotted against him. Dumbledore plotted about him. Ron and Hermione discussed what to do with him. Ginny was being lured away by the nonexistent charms of Colin Creevey. And Draco, Draco did whatever he could to offset Harry, to provoke him into losing control.

It had almost worked. With foresight, Harry could now look back and see how close he had been to losing himself. Ginny had asked him once if he was bored. He had been more than bored, he had been hopeless. Each day Harry felt like he was growing younger and younger. As an idol, he was gaining even more fame. The boy who defeated the Dark Lord, or at least managed to evade him on more than one occasion. Yet truthfully, Harry knew that while he was seen as some sort of hero to the world, he was anything but. He was lost, the world spun around him and he had no idea what was going on. He was weak, helpless, and Dumbledore schemed and on occasion pushed Harry into the spotlight before returning him to normal life once more. 

He was nothing without that moment in the spotlight, that moment when he was facing Voldemort and it was _just them_, and Harry had all the control he would need. Then those moments were over and Harry'd become aware of how little influence he really held, would understand that he was just one boy who had almost died as an infant, and since then had simply wandered through life, falling to the will of others. 

Only not anymore. 

_Avada Kedavra_ had given him that bit of control over his destiny. Now Harry Potter was more than just a name, more than just a boy who stumbled over a few lucky breaks and consequently gained the title 'hero'. He was something beyond that lie. He was… He had… He could…

He could make things fall out of the sky.

It wasn't much but it had the potential to be more. Harry would practise. He had got away with it once, he would get away with it again. He would take back his own life, build on the life Voldemort tried to end, destroy the life Dumbledore planned and molded him for. 

He could control his fate. He could be friends with Ron and never have to suffer those rare yet very painful glances of jealousy Ron sometimes delivered. He could be Ginny's boyfriend without having to be her knight. He could stop being The Boy Who Lived and become The Boy Who Was Living. 

Harry could even call Draco by his first name, if he wanted to. Which he didn't, not really, but it was still sort of a nice idea.

Harry left the bed curtains open. Moonlight surrounded him, touching his skin and clothing. It danced over his lips and ears.

Harry smiled and shivered and closed his eyes.

~~~

Night became morning and Ron snatched the Daily Prophet out of Hermione's hands.

"Ron!" Hermione admonished, looking at him over her breakfast. 

"Oh," said Ron. "Sorry. Harry wanted to see the paper."

"Have some manners, won't you!"

"Well, Harry asked if he could see it and you didn't answer!"

"Well, I was reading it!"

"No, you weren't!"

"Yes, I was!"

"No, you were eating-"

Harry took the paper from Ron and quickly scanned the headlines for his name. He knew it was foolish and maybe a bit paranoid, but he gave a sigh of relief when he saw nothing suspicious. He glanced up at Ron and Hermione, who were still arguing.

"-both at the same time?" Ron exclaimed.

"Yes, I'm just that talented." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, don't be so childish. Plenty of people read the paper and eat breakfast at the same time."

"But not when there are other people around! You can't read and eat at the same time! It's like you're…monopolizing breakfast table activities."

"There's food on your plate right now," Hermione said. "And on Harry's too. Looks like I'm not monopolizing anything."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Technically, you're not. But in _theory_-"

Harry grinned at both of them before this very abstract argument could progress into a fight. Ron and Hermione glanced over at him and both immediately broke into grins of their own. It had been too long since they'd seen a real smile from Harry, too long since they'd all smiled at the same time. This was good. The tension in the air was gone and they were all grinning like idiots, but they were being idiots together, and that was what really mattered. 

"Well, here's your newspaper, Hermione," said Harry suddenly, breaking the happy silence. They all laughed and Hermione took the paper rather sheepishly. 

"Thanks, Harry." She glared at Ron. "I'll just continue reading then, if no one has anything to say about it." But she said the words with a stifled giggle, and Ron just smiled and let it go.

Nice. Normal. Happy.

And not boring, not really. 

Hermione raised her eyes from the news. It had been months since she'd seen Harry take interest in anything, especially anything in the world outside of Hogwarts. Even in Quidditch games, Harry seemed almost lazy when it came to catching the Snitch, although so far this season he had not lost Gryffindor a single game. "Why did you want to see The Prophet anyway?" asked Hermione. 

"Dunno," said Harry. He glanced down at his plate. "I'm sort of…behind on things. On the world. Look, Ron talked to me last night." Which of course she knew, Harry was sure Ron told her everything. That was the habit between the three of them. "What I mean to say is, he talked to me about how worried you both were and… I'm really sorry. That I've been neglecting you, I mean, and worrying you. I never meant to. I mean…You know what I mean."

"Oh Harry, of course I know what you mean. I'm just glad you're all right," Hermione said in rushed tones, and she leaned across the table to give Harry an awkward hug. "You've been so quiet, you never seem to be around… I was really worried about you."

"She _was_," Ron confided. "You should've heard her go on about it." He took on a high-pitched tone. "Where could he be? Why isn't he at breakfast? Why wasn't he in the common room last night? Is he _still_ at Quidditch practice?"

Hermione slapped his arm. "As if you weren't just as bad." 

"At least Ron didn't accuse me of searching for herbs in Sprout's office," Harry said innocently, although he had to struggle not to smile when Hermione blushed and buried her head in her arms.

Ron rested his hand on Hermione's shoulder, grinned at her, then looked at Harry. "Thanks," he said suddenly. "For saying… What you said."

"About the herbs?"

Ron smiled. "About the sorry."

"I mean it." Harry could see Draco out of the corner of his eye. Malfoy was busy drinking a glass of orange juice and staring at Harry over the rim. 

"I wasn't trying to be distant, Ron." Harry said quickly, resuming his train of thought. "It's going to be different from now on. I'll be around and I won't…sulk. I'll spend time with both of you and with Ginny and the rest of our house and I won't wander off on my own or ignore you. I promise."

"Hello Harry."

Harry turned around in his chair. Ginny was standing behind him. Harry was sure she had heard all that he had just said, but she gave no indication of this, only smiled shyly at him.

How long had it been since they had truly talked? On the nights when most couples snuck into abandoned corners of Hogwarts, where had Harry been? Not with Ginny. Definitely not with Ginny.

He had been with Draco. Doing spells with Draco and doing homework with Draco and doing everything else short of doing Draco himself. He had not simply been learning spells, he had been staring at Draco's eyes and shape and kissing him, hating him and needing him more desperately than he had needed anything else, ever.

What had he left Ginny with? Quiet nights by herself, staring at pictures Colin had taken of her. Ginny didn't deserve that.

"Hey," said Harry, smiling back. Ginny took the empty seat next to him. Harry glanced at the crowded tables. "Overslept?"

"I always come to breakfast at this time. You just woke up earlier than usual," Ginny said. She tilted her head to the side. "Which is unusual. You've become such a late sleeper."

Ginny didn't know about Sirius, did she? Harry had to backtrack in time, search through memories…No, of course she didn't know. Harry had kept silent, as had Hermione and Ron. The funeral service Dumbledore had promised never occurred. The Daily Prophet did not even acknowledge Sirius's death. 

Harry liked it better this way. He did not want Ginny to know that a death could destroy him so completely. It wasn't just Sirius's death that had upset him, it was that Harry had been kept in the dark about the murderers. He'd been Dumbledore's puppet and Harry had had button eyes that did not let him see what was going on backstage. He'd been blind and Dumbledore had deceived him. 

And of course Harry was not going to tell anyone about that, not even Ron and Hermione. They had such faith in Dumbledore. They thought that everything would be all right because Dumbledore was there, they believed that Dumbledore knew all the answers because Dumbledore was wise and old and he had a white beard, and how could people with white beards make mistakes?

Ginny touched his arm. "Harry?" she said. "Are you all right?" She frowned. "I've asked you that a lot lately, and I don't think you've noticed."

"I'm fine," Harry said, suddenly feeling anything but. "Just fine."

Before Ginny could reply, Colin Creevey came over to the Gryffindor table and sat down, a new camera in tow. "Good morning!" he said. He beamed over at Ginny. 

Ginny smiled back. "Double potions this morning," she told him. "I hope we get to finish the Zhoud potion. We're almost done, I think if we just add a few extra shrivelfigs…"

"Not too many," Colin warned. "Remember last week? Martin's potion blew up. I even got a picture!" He smiled. Colin collected so many memories, pieces of time that would be dust if not for the camera. Harry thought it was unfair that Colin should be the guardian of those fragmented moments. Colin had always seemed so…incapable. 

"You got a picture of the explosion?" Ginny laughed. "Now that I have to see."

"I'll find it for you," Colin assured her. "It's in my room, perhaps we should go back to the dorm together and find it."

"Actually," Harry said, "I was wondering if we could talk first, Ginny."

"Oh," Ginny said. She looked to Harry, startled. "Yes. Of course. Right now?"

"Right now. Alone?"

"Okay." 

"See you," Harry said to Ron and Hermione, who were busy arguing or snogging or something. It was hard to decide.

"You two just go ahead!" Colin called after them as they walked away. "I'll find that picture for you, Ginny!" 

Harry and Ginny wandered out of the Great Hall, walking until they reached an empty corridor. "Hey," Ginny said once they were alone. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I want to know why you're still with me," said Harry bluntly. 

Ginny looked taken aback. "Why I'm still with you? What do you mean?"

"We hardly speak anymore. When we do speak, it's small talk, it's empty, and when we kiss, it's just out of habit. I know you want more and I know I can't offer it so why are you putting up with me?"

"Putting up with you?"

"And why do you just echo what I say?"

"Harry! It was just… You've been upset. Ron told me why-"

"What did he say?"

"That your uncle died or something. I just figured you needed space."

"Months of space, Ginny? Months and months of empty space?"

"I…" Ginny looked down. "I wanted to wait for you, Harry. I thought maybe… You'd get over it."

Harry couldn't think of anything to say.

"Have you?" Ginny asked finally. 

"You waited for me?"

"Sort of. Colin and I kissed a couple of times. I was hoping you wouldn't mind. They were accidents, that's all."

Harry shook his head, brow furrowed. This was not going as planned. "I don't mind," he managed. 

Ginny gave a sigh of relief. "All right." She met his gaze. "Good. I know it's been a while."

"_Why_ did you wait?"

Ginny blushed. She looked away from Harry, then looked back. "I guess I love you," she squeaked.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You do?"

"I think so, yes."

"Wow."

"I know."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Ginny laughed nervously and fiddled with her hair.

"Why do you love me?"

"I…Well. There are a lot of reasons. You're… Brave. Strong. Considerate. You're kind."

"No, I'm not."

"I don't think you know yourself very well, Harry." 

"Oh."

"Sorry."

"No, it's all right. It's true." He watched her intently. "Why else do you love me, Ginny?"

She looked at him for a very long time. "Well, you are a hero, Harry."

He stared into her eyes as if searching for something. "You really believe that?" he said, his voice softly fierce.

"Yes. Don't you?"

He didn't answer, just looked at her.

The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps echoing off marble. Colin Creevey spotted them and skidded to a halt, his camera bouncing against his side. 

"Hello!" he said. "I found that picture you wanted to see, Ginny."

Ginny looked faintly annoyed. "Colin, I'm not sure this is the best time."

"No?" said Colin with a frown. He glanced at Harry. "Well… All right. I'll show it to you in class, Gin."

He began to run back down the hall but Harry stopped him. "Wait!" he called. "Colin!"

Colin turned and looked at them.

"I was wondering," Harry said, "if you would take a photograph of Ginny and me."

Pictures, bits of moments to cling to. Proof that Harry was normal, that he didn't need anything, not Draco Malfoy to surprise him, or _Avada Kedavra_ to give him control, or power to let him feel like he was more than nothing. He'd have proof to hold in his hands, proof that someone kind and sweet like Ginny was with him and loved him. True, she was blind to his flaws but love was blind, after all.

Harry was not sure he wanted to be blind. Was love really worth more than clear vision?

Yes, of course it was. Everybody said so.

"Would you mind?" Harry asked, trying to clear his thoughts.

"Wait a moment. Wait. You _want_ me to take a picture of you?" Colin's mouth dropped open. This was quite an unusual request as Harry generally avoided the camera like a plague.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Of Ginny too. Both of us, together."

"Oh! Well. All right! Sure!" Colin still sounded startled. However he grinned, moved closer and lifted the camera up. Harry put his arm around Ginny.

"Smile," suggested Colin enthusiastically.

Harry smiled widely. Ginny glanced sideways at him, looked pleased, and followed suit.

_Click_.

The photograph appeared in Colin's hands (his new Insta-Photo!Film was his most treasured possession). He looked down at the picture and gave Harry and Ginny a thumbs up. The two crowded around him. "Would you look at that?" exclaimed Colin. "Excellent!"

"Oh, but Colin," Ginny said, face falling. "The picture is only of me!"

It was true. Ginny was on the left side of the picture, smiling. The remainder of the photograph was of the rather uninteresting stone wall.

"Only of you?!" Colin sounded oh-so doubtful. He held the photograph up to the light, as if this would suddenly cause Harry to appear. "Why, so it is! Gosh. Sorry Harry. Boy, am I embarrassed."

"No, no, it's all right," Ginny said soothingly. She glanced at the photo. "At least you managed to fit in _some_ of Harry."

All that was visible of Harry was half of his arm, slung around Ginny's shoulder. It was not one of his most photogenic shots.

"S'pose I'll have to keep the photograph then," said Colin, placing the picture into his front pocket. 

"Maybe you could take another picture?" offered Ginny. "Seeing as that one didn't really come out right…"

"I'm out of film," said Colin cheerfully. "Sorry, Harry."

Harry glared steadily at Colin. It was a you've-got-a-photograph-of-my-girlfriend-in-your-pocket kind of glare.

Colin smiled back at Harry cheerfully and Harry decided that puberty had only made Colin Creevey weirder.

"However, if you want," Colin went on, "I can take pictures of Harry after supper. My brother Dennis asked me to take a few more of you, Harry."

"Huh?" said Harry. "Why?"

"Oh, I gave him some of the old ones I had of you. Dennis has started a private collection of Harry Potter pictures. He seems to fancy them a good deal. He's even framed some of his favorite photographs of you."

"Oh," said Harry.

"He's hung them up over his bed."

"Oh," said Harry again.

"He told me that's the best place for them. He says your picture makes him feel safe at night. He can't sleep without them."

"Er," was all Harry could manage. He made a vague attempt at clearing his throat. "Oh. Well, that's nice?" Harry looked around fearfully. "Isn't it?"

"Well, _I_ think it is," Colin rattled on like a madman. "Although it's a bit odd. I mean, I don't know if heart-shaped frames were really necessary. Anyways, class'll be starting any minute now. Are you and Harry done?"

"I don't know," Ginny said, turning around to face Harry. "Are we?"

"For now." Harry leaned forward as if to kiss her, then moved away, then leaned forward just as she moved away. His lips ended up brushing her temple. Harry glanced down at his feet, feeling less than suave. "I'll see you later though, okay?" he said to the floor.

"Tonight," Ginny promised. 

Harry attempted a smiled and walked away before she could, meeting Ron and Hermione on the way to his next class. They had Care of Magical Creatures that day. Harry quickly scanned the students. Hagrid's robust form was very visible, but Draco was nowhere to be seen. Harry felt a frown tugging at his mouth. Had someone found out that Draco had used an Unforgivable Curse? Was that why Draco was absent? What if Draco was in trouble? He might be expelled! Sent to Azkaban! Could they even do that? Draco was only what, sixteen, seventeen? They couldn't send a sixteen year old to Azkaban, could they? 

Harry remembered the face of Crouch's son. He could not have been much older than Draco.

But no, no one could have found out. Harry had not gotten into any trouble whatsoever and he had performed the spell too. 

Draco was probably just sick.

Only the next day, Harry didn't see Draco at mealtimes either. He was strangely absent in potions. Nobody seemed to have an explanation for this. The Slytherins shrugged to each other and the Gryffindors did not care.

"You're distracted again," Ginny said one day as Harry walked her to class. It had been five nights since he and Draco had succeeded in the Killing Curse. Since then, Harry had only caught glimpses of Draco, flashes of white-blond hair in the hallways, hair that disappeared as soon as Harry caught sight of it. 

"You're _always_ distracted lately," Ginny continued.

"Sorry," Harry muttered vaguely.

"I wasn't accusing you, I was just saying…"

"Sorry," Harry repeated, craning his neck to see above the crowd.

"Who're you looking for?"

"Draco Malfoy. He hasn't been in class for a while. I was wondering if he was dead." Which was not exactly true, Draco had to be alive. Unless Harry was seeing a ghost. 

Ginny looked shocked. "_Dead_? Come on, Harry, Malfoy can't be dead. We would know."

"Would we?" Harry smiled grimly. He shook himself out of his thoughts. "Anyway, Ron's waiting for me down the hall. What's your next class? Isn't it Transfigur-"

Harry froze and then shivered as he felt ice creeping along the back of his neck.

No, no, it was not ice, it was hands, fingers, skin…

A folded piece of ripped parchment was placed into Harry's hand. The hand moved from his neck and encircled Harry's fist, forcing it to close around the parchment.

"Harry?" Ginny looked alarmed. "Are you okay?" 

"Shh," said a voice in his ear, softer than dawn, especially in the loudness of the busy hallways. "Don't scream, idiot."

"I wasn't going to!"

"What? You weren't going to _what_?" Ginny looked exasperated.

"Scream. Er, I mean…"

"Nice one."

"Shut up!" Harry said.

"_Me_?" cried Ginny. "What did I say?"

"No, not you, Ginny."

"Then who were you talking to?"

"Er, no one."

"Say the voices in your head."

"Would you get out of my ear?!"

"There's…something in your ear?" asked Ginny hesitantly.

"Huh? Oh! Yes!" Harry clapped his hand to his ear suddenly. "A bug or something, ack, okay, I think it's out now."

Ginny looked at him strangely. "Harry, are you sure you're all right?"

"Who, me? I'm super. Did the bell just ring? You know, I think it did. I better get to class. Bye."

"Uh, bye. Harry? Bye."

He ran to class and ignored Snape's lecture, looking instead at the piece of parchment in his hands. It made Harry think of the summer before. He remembered the letters Draco and he had sent back in a flurry, needing it, needing those words to be exchanged.

It was all about words. Words mean nothing, hadn't Harry told Draco that once? But all the two of them had were words, words were what twisted people into becoming something different, something new, something scary or something better. It was words that commanded him and Draco, not a lust for power or love. The jeers they exchanged, the quiet stares that said volumes, the letters that met together and formed wishes and commands. It was the words that had the passion, nothing else.

Harry opened the piece of parchment underneath his desk.

_Go to the usual place_, was all it said. 

~~~

The Restricted Section of the library was musty. Draco tried not to sneeze underneath the invisibility cloak. As he scanned the words in books, he mused about Harry and about the look of shock on his face when Draco had reached out and touched him. Draco had been under the invisibility cloak but Harry had still _known_ his touch even before Draco had said a word. Then he had given Harry the note and Harry had been surprised. It made Draco feel better, knowing that he could surprise Harry like that, knowing he still had that bit of power. 

There were people not too far away, Draco could hear them. He hoped it wasn't the Weasley girl and Creevey snogging again, _that_ was not a pleasant sight to see. He sighed, his breath making the flame of the candle next to him flicker uncertainly. He waited for the couple to leave but they seemed quite persistent and finally Draco turned back to the words in front of him and ignored the noises, bored and uninterested and wishing he was in Potions instead. He stared at the letters, urging them to make sense, silently pleading with them to make the green light in his mind go away.

The black ink of the letters remained, but the words seemed a blinding green.

"Get yourself together," Draco hissed, not sure if he was talking to the words or to himself or to Harry.

Was it nighttime yet?

~~

It felt like ages since Harry had been here last, although it had been only five days. Harry hadn't realized how much he'd missed the small, unused classroom. He had missed the room's ghostly quiet, the old-fashioned desks, the somber black curtains, but most of all Harry had missed…

Well, not Draco, that was for sure. The green light then, Harry could miss that, couldn't he? Was it wrong to find some sort of comfort in something so deadly?

He picked up his wand and idly whispered "_Avada Kedavra_," to the falling shadows, wondering if there was something lurking within them. Nothing happened visibly, there was no life out there, but Harry could still feel something leaving his wand. It felt as though an invisible presence was seeking out the life Harry had sent it after. He shivered at the image that suddenly appeared in his mind, a blind man groping the black shadows, searching for a pulse.

"Potter. You got here without the invisibility cloak." 

Harry turned quickly to see Draco standing in the doorway, eyes illuminated by his lighted wand, books underneath his arm. Draco closed the door and walked forward. 

"Hey," said Harry. "You're here."

"Of course."

"You didn't say you'd be here. You just told me to come." Harry smiled. "I've missed this place, haven't you?"

"Not really. I've been here the past four or five nights. The rest of the time I was in the library."

"Yeah? What've you been doing?" Harry looked up, feeling lightheaded. "Have you been dreaming about ice cream? Or world domination? Because I wasn't really sure which you'd dream about."

"I don't dream about either."

"Weird, I was sure it'd be world domination… It was snowflakes then?"

"You're a freak," Draco said. He sat down. "I've been doing research."

Harry blinked, watching Draco pile several books on the table top. "Research?" he echoed. "Research for what?"

"I want to know what happened the first time we tried _Avada Kedavra_ together."

"The _only_ time, you mean," Harry said, suddenly cold.

"You don't want to try it again?" said Draco, looking up. "That's why I've asked you here."

Harry shook his head violently. "I don't want to try it again. Not with you." 

"No? How sad. Whatever happened to the Gryffindor spirit of adventure?"

Harry turned away.

"Be honest with me, Potter." Draco was glaring. "You can't really tell me you're not the least bit curious about what occurred. Our minds connected! That's _not_ supposed to happen, it's practically unheard of. Believe me, I've searched the books in the library like a lunatic. The few volumes that mention anything similar to what happened to us, they all passed it off as a myth."

"Right. A myth, a dream, a story. Maybe that's all that happened to us, Malfoy. Maybe we got caught up in some else's story or dream, maybe it wasn't us at all. Or maybe it was just a moment of temporary insanity. We should forget it happened. It doesn't really matter."

"Doesn't really matter?! That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You don't understand how huge this could be, you haven't been reading the books I have. We saw _Avada Kedavra_ in our minds!"

"You weren't so excited by it when it first happened."

"I didn't understand how rare it was. Or how…How it connected me to you."

"Is that supposed to be sweet?"

"Do I strike you as the romantic type, Potter? It's not sweet, it's ugly and _intense_. We saw a spell actually _form_ and yet neither of us got harmed! And this wasn't just any spell, it was a big one, the biggest. Perhaps that's why we saw it. I was thinking, a spell would _have_ to be powerful in order for it to be strong enough to make itself visible. We have to try the spell together again, see if it reveals itself."

"Why can't we try alone?"

"You're an idiot, have I ever told you that? Yes, I think I have. Potter, it took both of our minds to see the spell start to form. We're just not powerful enough alone. If we were, we'd have seen it in the sky the other day."

"Yet together, you think we're strong enough to see the curse form?" 

"Apparently. We've only tried once."

"You said we had to have identical minds and goals for the spell to work. We don't have identical minds now, like we must have back then."

"No, see, that's the interesting part. We _didn't_ have identical minds back then. We couldn't have, yet we still... Our minds sort of melded together and we still saw _Avada Kedavra_ even though we're different people and… There's something bigger at work here, Potter. That's what I'm really after."

"Of course there's something bigger at work. There's always something bigger at work. I'm used to it by now. 'Something bigger'. Big deal. We're small. There's always going to be something bigger. There's always going to be some higher power manipulating us into feeling, or killing, or living, or dancing."

Draco sniggered.

"What?" asked Harry, annoyed.

"I just pictured you dancing." 

Harry sighed and got to his feet. "I thought we were going to practise the spell some more. If you only asked me here for this, I'm leaving." 

"No, you're not. The least you can do is help me research what happened. I found two more books in the library. They look promising. You can look them over, see if they mention anything." 

"So that's where you've been all this time?" said Harry. "The library?" 

"With the invisibility cloak." 

"Isn't Snape angry?" 

"Father told him to let me do what I like a long time ago. Snape listens to Father. All the other professors think I'm sick and Dumbledore doesn't know." 

"You should have gone to your classes." 

"Classes!" Draco sniffed. "I don't need to go to those." 

"You think you're above everything." 

"I don't think. I _am_." 

"You're a liar. You know you're not above anything." 

"I'm better than _you_," Draco snapped. "Not that that's very hard to accomplish. Sit down and read. See what you can find." He handed Harry a book and then opened up another book without a word. Harry stared at him for a moment, then sat down and began to read as well. 

Harry scanned the crumbling book for nearly an hour. The pages stared up at him, white as a ghost with words scrolling blackly. Harry glanced around the classroom again, then turned back to the heavy stack of pages on his lap. 

The book Draco had handed to Harry covered ancient magicks, focusing on the different properties used for spells and the fluctuations of magic over millennia. It talked an awful lot about the beliefs of past wizarding communities, and how these beliefs turned out to be wrong. Harry could hardly see the sense in learning about theories that had all been proven untrue. 

_At one point,_ the author droned, trying to sound scholarly and failing completely, _ it was common belief that the strength of magic varied with the position of the planets and the stars. We now know that magic is a constant unmoving and unlimited force upon our planet._

Harry skimmed down the page, which mostly seemed to cover the importance of astrologers in ancient times. Suddenly, his eyes widened. 

"Malfoy." Harry's voice sounded strange. "Malfoy, come here. I think I found something…" 

Draco got up and looked over Harry's shoulder. Harry's eyes widened further as he continued to read. 

_ During moonless nights, magical villages believed that the world's magic was cursed and would taint any one person who used it. On occasions such as these, a pair of individuals would be called upon to awake the dormant magic and cast the more important spells together. It was believed that if a pair cast a single spell together, the evil in the magic would purify. The pair called upon were usually twins, although there are occasions recorded in which two likeminded individuals took on these duties. In all cases, whether twins or lovers, they were thought to have souls entwined by magic and were called the Implexos. It was believed that the Implexos were connected to each other on a supernatural level and would remain so for all eternity. The pair was not allowed to love anyone else for fear the magic of the other would become jealous. If such jealousy occured, the sacred connection between the Implexos would be broken and the two would return to being normal human beings. Legend says that the village the Implexos protected would be cursed until both of the Implexos were killed and a new, untainted pair were found. _

Of course, modern society has proven that magic can be called upon by only one individual. It can be said with fair certainty that tales of two people performing one spell is nothing more than myth. 

"Huh," Draco said once he was done reading. "So basically, it's saying we're soul mates. Bound together for all eternity. Great, eternity with a Gryffindor. Ah well, better send out the wedding invitations. Which one of us should wear the dress?" 

"We don't know if any of this is true," Harry said to the book, his voice quiet. "It may be a myth someone made up before bed. Maybe the book is right. And you would wear the dress, of course." 

"Me?!" Draco looked outraged. 

Harry shrugged. "You don't think so? I thought it was pretty obvious. You're way more effeminate than I am." 

"_Me_?!" cried Draco again. "You're such a _girl_, Potter. I _reek_ of testosterone." 

"And this is a good thing?" 

"I'm very masculine!" 

Harry didn't even try to hide his smile. 

"You doubt it?" Draco smiled back, then moved forward decisively and pulled Harry up from his chair. He shoved Harry against a wall, put an arm on either side of him. "Bet I could make _you_ scream like a girl." 

Harry glared at him, pulse quickening. "Is that supposed to be funny?" 

Draco leaned in. "Are you laughing?" He brushed his lips against Harry's collarbone, slowly pressing against him. His lips trailed down further, breath whispering down the black Hogwarts robes. 

"Get up," hissed Harry. 

"Why don't you walk away?" 

"Get up!" 

"Because you can't, that's why. Because you're riveted here; you couldn't leave if you wanted to. And you don't want to, do you, Potter? No, of course not. You're happy right where you're standing." 

The shadows whispered but did not say a word. 

~~~ 

They returned the next night. They had left the books wide open in the classroom.

For a moment they glanced at each other, then both looked away awkwardly. They retreated to separate sides of the room, eyes settling on anything but each other. 

Harry resumed reading the book from the night before. Or at least, his eyes read over the words, then forgot them a moment later. His mind was elsewhere, mostly on Draco. He heard a cough, looked up, but Draco was still reading quietly. Turning back to his book, Harry listened intently to the other boy's breathing, the sound of pages being turned. Paper brushing against paper, it made a soft, scratching noise. So different from skin brushing against skin, which hardly made a sound. 

Draco raised his eyes, glancing at Harry. Harry was looking down, eyes on his book. Draco frowned and returned to his own reading. It was nothing new, only mentioned the bonding of minds to be a fable, adding that scholars suspected that it had been a custom, almost a ritual during medieval times. 

_Of course,_ wrote the author, _it is well known that medieval witches and wizards had a flair for dramatic story telling, not to mention a strong taste for anything containing alcohol, so inebriated tales of connected minds are to be, in this scholar's mind, taken with a grain of salt._

"We should try the spell together." 

Draco's head snapped up. "What?" 

"We've been reading and reading and there's nothing," Harry said. "I'm sick of waiting for the information to drop into our laps. Why don't we just… Try again. See what happens." 

"Why? You were so against it yesterday." 

"I know but...Well… After reading all of this, I'm kind of curious. Two minds melding, it's happened before, but no one wants to acknowledge that it has. Why?" 

"That's the question." 

"Yeah." Harry looked away. "Malfoy, remember what it was like after the spell… When we didn't push the Killing Curse into being and suddenly all of the light went away and we were two separate minds again…" 

"I remember." 

"It was so cold, once the spell was over. I felt…empty. Like I was alone in a world everyone else had deserted. I don't think I've ever been so cold." 

"Sometimes you have to be cold." Sometimes life is like winter. 

"Yeah. You're right... So I guess we should go for it. The spell, I mean." 

Draco closed the book. "All right. Perhaps nothing will happen anyway, don't sound so scared. Really, you don't have to be so melodramatic about everything." 

"I'm not being melodramatic and I'm not scared," Harry said. "Don't we need a rat or something?" 

"Must I find one? Why don't we use that owl of yours? The school will notice if one of their owls goes missing." 

"I'm _not_ killing Hedwig! What about _your_ owl?" 

"Amers?!" Draco looked shocked. "Never! I'll find a damn rat." He threw on the invisibility cloak and Harry could hear his soft footsteps as he prowled around the room, then opened the door to check the halls. 

Harry waited in apprehension. He wasn't sure this was the best idea. It might twist the beauty of _Avada Kedavra_ into something complex. The Killing Curse was beautiful because of how straightforward it was. Two words and a flash of light, that was it. Just quick and painless simplicity, tinted green. 

He heard footsteps but Draco was gone, and Harry turned back to his thoughts. 

Doing the spell with Draco would complicate everything, ruin the rare simplicity Harry had found in _Avada Kedavra_. Nevertheless, Harry had agreed to Draco's wish. He wasn't sure why, only knew that the more he thought about it the more important finding out what really happened seemed to be. Why did everyone seem so intent on dismissing the idea of two minds putting forth one spell? What did the world have to hide? 

Harry listened closely for the sound of Draco's footsteps. He was worried about him. Ever since the two geese had died, Draco seemed changed. His movements were less decisive, his gaze more wandering and uncertain…Except when he was looking at Harry. Then he always seemed certain. 

"Nothing," came Draco's voice. "Absolutely nothing. How does Mrs. Norris eat? Pretty soon she'll be going after first year students." Draco closed the door, took off the invisibility cloak and walked over to Harry. 

"So that's it? We can't do the spell?" Harry frowned. "I guess we'll just have to try again tomorrow. It's getting late anyway, I think I'll be going to bed and..." Harry saw that Draco had become very still. "Malfoy? Malfoy?" 

Draco raised a finger to his lips. He was staring at something. Harry followed his gaze and noticed the faint shadow moving across the floor. A rat. Obviously they were meant to try this tonight after all. 

Harry withdrew his wand, pointing it to where the shadow was moving. He glanced to Draco, who had taken out his own wand. 

"You're ready?" Harry asked. 

Draco looked at him. Harry grabbed his hand and pulled him closer, softly brushing his lips against Draco's. "You're ready?" he repeated. 

Draco nodded and turned to the shadow which was quickly scuttling to the door. They did not count to three this time. Draco just tightened his grip on Harry's hand and then together they whispered, "_Avada Kedavra_." 

It did not feel as if something was trying to slam their minds together this time, instead their senses glided together effortlessly. Draco's thoughts wound around Harry's. It seemed that they were seeing with one pair of eyes as the darkness of the classroom dissolved in green flames. The green flames began to take shape, forming a vortex. They could hear the ocean in their ears, steady, rumbling, consistent. Light spilled from the vortex like golden foam on green waves. 

It was almost peaceful. 

_This is… _

Different. I know. Oh 

My God! There's someone inside it! Inside the 

Flames, they're spinning, Draco! 

Harry, that can't be- 

Is it- 

There was a person inside the green vortex, spinning and staring out at them. It was not a rat who the Killing Curse had captured, it was an old, old man with a tumbling white beard and bright blue eyes. There were lines across his forehead and his mouth was open in shock as he spun helplessly, his arms outstretched toward them. 

_This can't be, it isn't possible, Draco, I think that's _

Dumbledore. Harry, drop the spell! 

It won't let me, it can't, Draco, it's pulling me forward. 

It was a hand, holding Harry, refusing to let go. 

_Get out of my mind, Potter! That's Dumbledore, try to twist away _

Can't, Draco, it's like a tide, I can't 

Untangle yourself from it! 

Can't, can't, it wants to escape from our minds, Draco, there's not enough room for it here, it wants 

Life, don't let it take it, it's 

I can't breathe 

I can't see, it's all green 

Let it go, no, no, we can't 

I think I'm drowning. 

_Avada Kedavra_ was like a current, dragging both Harry and Draco under. The spell was overpowering, every breath was torture. The curse was struggling to escape the two boy's minds, yet neither let it leave their heads and enter reality. In response, the curse searched their lungs and eyes, and beat against their bodies and cried for escape. 

Harry could feel the Killing Curse pushing him under, it felt as though he was sinking in an ocean, the water thick and cold, flames made of seaweed. There was nothing here but Draco, whose voiceless thoughts screamed for air within Harry's mind. 

There was green and green and green. The surface with its golden froth was so far away. _Avada Kedavra_ was suffocating, breathing the air out of them.

_Let go, Harry._ It was Draco, his words urgent.

_It's going to end here, Draco._

No, no, no, it's not! Dumbledore would kill you too, if he thought it'd help his stupid cause. Just let go. You're pulling me down with you and I don't want to die!

Let go?

Harry, forget the spell. 

It's too developed to forget! It's here, it wants to leave our heads or, or, or something. Draco, I don't think I can breathe, but I can't keep the spell here, it wants to leave. 

Then let it leave. 

But Dumbledore- 

Do you_ want to die, Harry? Push the spell forward or it'll kill us both! Don't let Dumbledore control you like this, don't give Dumbledore the power you've just found. I know you want to keep that control, Potter. I know you want that power for yourself!_

...You're right. I do. 

Leave. That was all Harry thought. Leave. 

And it was as simple as that. The spell left his mind and his lungs, it soared to the spinning man in the corner of the room, a mass of green energy. It hit him and engulfed him. 

The classroom was suddenly dingy and dark, shadowed even in the moonlight. Dumbledore's body lay crumpled on the floor. A ripped invisibility cloak lay at his side. 

Draco stared at the body of the old man. His mouth was wide open in an expression of muted horror. Then he turned and rested his forehead against Harry's, motionless. 

"Harry," he whispered. 

Harry's fingers entwined themselves tightly around Draco's.

He had never felt colder in his life. 


	7. Enemy of My Enemy

**A/N:** Many brightly colored socks to Amalin.  
I have given up on mailing cupcakes, so I'll be sending mental cupcakes instead to the following people: Christy (of course) n Rhiii (of course), poetic_license, Aja, Nmissi, Reena, Light Iniquity, Kimby, Iarmain, AVK, Aurora Malfoy, Gypsy Silverleaf, Valerie, Absinthe, Loende, Miztiy, marysia, Diamond Angel, Draco Malfoy-N-Harry Potter, deso, litecrystal, Mel, venenatus.venustas, Stewart, Youko Gingitsune,Kearie, Tyde, Shades, Sheron, Riesa, Azalais Malfoy, VeronicaQ, Hope-Leer, Rory9, switchknife, charlie, annephoenix, Rings Of Saturn, BlancheMalfoy, beautiful disaster, just me, M-chan, nikalee, the emailers, and anyone else I may have missed who gave me feedback in some way. I really appreciate it.   


Chapter Seven: Enemy of My Enemy

It's human to avoid death. I don't think that humans avoid death because they want to exist, but maybe because they want to be included. Maybe the only thing keeping anybody alive is the urge to know what happens next, to turn the page and watch the world unravel until all that's left is a tangle of thread. 

Maybe that's all living is. Waiting to find out what happens next. Waiting to see the final design. Just waiting. 

Nobody ever talked about Malfoy's birthday, but I looked through some records and found out it was at the end of March. 

I was planning to give him a feather from a goose. Perhaps it was a mean-spirited present and perhaps it was unlike me but I imagined the fear in his eyes when I handed it to him and it scared me but I liked it. More than anything, I wanted to see what guilt would look like in Draco's eyes. I guess because guilt is so…so _human_.

Draco pretends he's not human, but I know he is. And I pretend I _am_ human, but sometimes I'm not. Which sounds weird, I know, because what else could I be but human? I'm not a monster, I'm not a god, and I'm definitely not a myth, no matter what Draco says.

I'm not a bird either, I don't think. 

The funny thing is, when you're not completely human, sometimes death doesn't completely matter. Sometimes it's just one more event, one more thread, one last image of life. It's just not such a big deal, not the absolute end no matter how much you wish it was. 

Sometimes when you're not human, you make no sense to anyone but yourself.

Sometimes when you're not human, you have to surround yourself with humans in hopes that they'll rub off on you. Draco, in his denial to be human, is the most human thing I know and I think maybe I love him for it but no, that can't be right, can it.

I didn't think so.

I don't think I'd mind being a bird. I don't think flying away would be too bad. 

I was going to give Draco a feather for his birthday, but I ended up keeping it for myself.

It's the most beautiful thing I own, you see, and I couldn't give it away. It doesn't matter anyway. Now I have two feathers and green light in my head. 

~~~

They were shivering uncontrollably. Draco could hear Harry's teeth chattering, could feel the reverberations in his skull. He thought back to days before. Harry's tears sliding into Draco's eyes. It made Draco angry that Harry should have all these emotions, yet it was up to Draco to experience them for him, to contemplate the feeling of someone else's tears running down his cheek, another's shivers running through his spine.

"Calm down," Draco tried to say, but he couldn't form the words, was shivering too hard himself. "Freezing," he muttered instead. It was all his lips seemed able to manage, the one clumsy word he could get out. "Freezing, it's-"

"So cold."

Draco glared, anger pushing him out of his confusion. "I believe freezing covered that, yes."

Dumbledore dead and he was quipping, snapping, dying, freezing. Draco would have run away. He wanted to. Run away, Malfoy, run away from the body and the body and the body and what do you think is going to happen when they find out, Malfoy? 

Suddenly it was his father's voice in his head.

They'll chase you and kill you, mar the family name, mar your beautiful face and mar the ice-world you live in, the ice-world you've made home. They'll burn it down, the Ministry, Voldemort, they'll burn _you_ down until there's nothing left of your world.

Draco _would_ have run, he would have run until his lungs collapsed and he sank to his knees. He would have run, only…

Only Potter stood there, looking like a lost child; one would half-expect to see mittens tied to his sleeves. He took a step away from Draco, looked down at the body, looked back up at Draco, then looked at the body once more. "What do we do?" Harry said. His voice was calm, almost rational. Draco would have thought Harry was completely in control if it wasn't for the tremors running through both of them. Harry began to pace. "What do we do," he said, "and why is it so cold, and what do we do."

Draco felt a sudden need to take the initiative, to stop sniveling and _do_ something. The birds had been one thing. This was… This wasn't as important as birds. Birds were different, more ethereal, they didn't belong to the world. Dumbledore was an old man and the earth _wanted_ him back. It was practically the old wizard's time anyway. Harry and he had really, Draco thought, done everyone else a huge favor.

Or not.

"Let's start with a fire," said Draco suddenly. 

"For the cold?"

"For the body."

"You mean…" began Harry. 

"I mean." Draco took out his wand and steadied his shaking hand. "_Incendio_," he said, pointing the wand at Dumbledore's body. Flames engulfed the frail form, worked their way past the fabric of his robes, through his skin, to the core. Draco looked away, staring steadily at the sky outside. He could feel the heat of the fire upon his face. It felt good, like it was chasing away the ice of _Avada Kedavra_. 

Harry, unlike Draco, watched the fire steadily. Draco was unsure whether or not he should lean in for comfort. _Someone_ should make Harry look away.

Before Draco could decide what to do, the ground began to shake. Draco glanced over and saw Harry stomping out what remained of the flame that had eaten Dumbledore's body. Harry continued stomping his feet on the floorboards, even when the flame was quenched. Draco watched. Finally he grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him back, before the boy stomped his way through the floorboards altogether, like an echo of some crazy fairy tale.

The two looked at the place where Dumbledore had been. A normal fire would have left more messy pieces to deal with, but the magical flame had destroyed the body and the bones. All that remained was ash.

It was Harry who swooped down and cupped the cluster of ashes within his palms. In one swift movement he was at the window, arms spread above his head, fingertips extended toward the sky. 

Draco ran to the window and watched as the falling ashes were picked up by the wind and scattered like dandelion seeds.

"I should have known," said Harry. "I should have known, I should have known, I should have known."

Draco thought of saying something about these things happening, or how there was no way Harry could have known, or that sometimes people die and it's just part of the grand cycle your choice of supreme being has set us on and what's a perfect life without exquisite death, and most of all Draco wanted to say: But Potter, you think death is beautiful (in the right lighting).

He remained silent. 

"This happens every time," Harry went on. "The world spins around me and there are things I'm supposed to know or figure out because I'm a hero, a hero, and clever, and…" He turned to Draco suddenly and grabbed his shoulders. "I heard footsteps before. I thought it was you or me… I didn't think it was… And now he's in the sky somewhere. I'm stuck here on earth. Because I was stupid and I can never connect the damn dots. I always figure things out at the last moment and usually things turn out okay but…Not this time. I should have known. I never figure out the plot until it's too late, until somebody dies."

"Dumbledore died. Who else?" Draco tilted his head. "Oh, you mean the Hufflepuff? He hardly counts."

But Harry had turned back to the window. He gripped the stone ledge so tightly that his fingertips turned a chalky white. "Should have known," Harry muttered under his breath. "Lucky streak can only last so long, right, and if I'm such a savior how come people keep dying, how come-"

"Because you're not a savior. You're a stupid kid, and that's why all of this happened. You're not clever, you're not a miracle, and Dumbledore is dead. Okay? Did you get all that?"

Their eyes traveled to the sky, the swirling wind, while their thoughts traveled to the pile of ash, the tattered cloak, the remnants of a great wizard and, more importantly, a human being.

Draco turned to Harry. "He…He was manipulative. Dumbledore was." 

"Yes." Then, more softly: "Don't say that."

"I already have." Draco flushed and turned away rapidly from the window, not wanting his anger to ebb. "I already have so don't tell me what to do, Potter."

"I wish you'd stop saying that. I don't tell you what to-"

"I can tell you what to do too, you know."

"I guess we have to get out of here," Harry said, ignoring Draco. "When they find out what we did…"

"I'm not leaving Hogwarts."

"There's no way out. There's just death. And I'm ready, I'm ready for it."

"Are you?"

"Yes! I'm brave enough to die. Are you?"

"No." 

Harry glared at him.

"What, Potter? You want me to tell you to go on without me? Discover the mysteries of death while I stay at Hogwarts taking Herbology exams? I'm not letting you go. I'd never let you make things easy on yourself."

"They'll kill us anyway."

"There's always more than one way out," Draco said almost cheerfully, pushing the picture of Dumbledore from his mind. "Haven't you paid attention to your own life? Or were you sleeping along the way? How many close calls have you had?"

"Stop asking me questions. I've never _killed_ anyone."

"You want to die?"

"I…"

"Dumbledore is gone," said Draco. "The wizard who has manipulated your life from the very start is no longer here. You wanted control, didn't you? Well, look around! You're finally holding the reins and you're going to _let go_?! If there's one thing I've learned in Slytherin, Potter, it's that when you've got what you want, _run with it_."

"I'm not a Slytherin."

"Aren't you?"

"This isn't what I want."

"Isn't it?"

"He was spying on us," said Harry. "For how long, do you think? Perhaps he's told someone already."

"I don't think he has. We'd know by now. So would everyone else."

"Do you think he saw us... I mean when we were…Do you think he saw us?"

"I don't know." 

Harry grimaced.

"I'm sure Dumbledore has other ways of getting his…kicks," Draco added helpfully. "Or at least, he has better things to do than watch us."

"Had, you mean."

"What?" 

"He's dead. Past tense."

"Oh. You're right, let's get out of here. We should go to his office, leave a note or something."

"Saying what?"

There was an edge to Harry's voice. Draco shrugged uneasily. "That the pressure of Voldemort is getting to him, I guess?"

"You think…You think we should leave a suicide note?"

Draco shrugged again. "I don't know. I suppose."

"Or," said Harry, "we could say he's gone on a quest."

"A quest?" Draco arched an eyebrow and laughed, an odd laugh that sounded like splintering glass.

"Well, he's wise," Harry said defensively, looking away. "What with the white beard and the glasses and… He seems like he has a lot of quests to be on."

"Seemed. Had. Past tense."

"Shut up."

"I'm traveling," said Draco distantly, and Harry realized he was trying to figure out what to write on the note. "Don't come looking for me. I don't want to be found."

"The pressures of the impending war are too much," Harry added. "I… I grow weary with age."

"I wish to spend my last days away from the world of witches and wizards."

"I wish to be left alone in solitude."

"I wish to die in peace."

"Albus Dumbledore," said Harry. He'd started shaking again and the last words hung in the air, trembling, before they died.

This time Draco did reach out. Feeling somewhat awkward, he held Harry so tightly to his chest that he could feel Harry's glasses digging into his skin. It was, Draco reflected, a game they played. When Harry was losing it, Draco was there to hold him. When Draco was losing it…

Harry was there to shove him down. And it was always exactly what Draco needed.

Harry grasped Draco's arm and pressed his lips against his wrist. "The office," he said to Draco's pulse.

"Yes." Draco let go of Harry and Harry began to move toward the invisibility cloak. Harry paused, then gingerly picked up Dumbledore's tattered cloak. "I guess we have two of them now." 

"Don't," said Draco, touching Harry's shoulder. "We'll leave it in his office."

He grabbed the cloak and threw it over Harry and himself. Draco started to walk, but Harry was not moving.

"Would you hurry up?" Draco impatiently twirled at the shreds of Dumbledore's invisibility cloak.

"Look down," said Harry. His voice sounded strange. "Look at the floor."

"There's nothing there except our feet. Is that unusual? Have you just now noticed how good-looking my feet are? Flattered as I am, we truly don't have time for this."

Good, Draco. Slide back into who you really are, don't let yourself become possessed by death and ancient wizards and green green light.

"Look closer," Harry said. "Look outside of the cloak."

Draco's vision was fuzzy under the invisibility cloak, but he was fairly sure he saw nothing unusual. He glanced over at Harry, whose eyes were still riveted on the floor.

"You're delusional. There's nothing there but the floorboards, some cracks, our shadows."

"Our shadows. Exactly. I'd… I'd never noticed before. The invisibility cloak hides us, but it doesn't hide our shadows."

Something about Harry's words made Draco's blood freeze into jagged icicles that cut at his veins. "You think that shadow we saw, the one we thought was a rat… That was Dumbledore?"

"It could be. Partially. Only…" Harry paused. "There must be more to it."

"Not everything is a plot against you, Potter. Some things are just what they seem."

"Yeah, well, I can't take that risk again, can I?"

They continued on their way, out the door of the classroom and down a corridor. 

Shadows cloaked Hogwarts at night, but Harry noticed none but his and Draco's. The two boys were huddled under the cloak together, and fascinated, Harry stared down at the floor, allowing Draco to guide him to Dumbledore's office. Their shadows were darkly grey, like a mourner's veil. Their bodies were close, so close their separate shadows appeared to meld together, to create one bulky person out of two slight boys. Every now and then a shaft of moonlight would slip in from behind a curtain that was not quite closed, and a white line would cut across the shadow Harry and Draco shared.

Soon they stood outside of Dumbledore's office, in front of the large stone gargoyle.

"You know the password?" asked Draco. His hair brushed against Harry's face, shaking him out of his reverie.

"Huh? Oh. No. It's usually," he added helpfully, "something to do with food."

"Something to do with food? Do you want us to be here for years? Narrow it down, will you?"

"Well…What's the last thing you've seen Dumbledore eating for supper?"

The password turned out to be 'chop suey'. The two guessed it within a minute and began to walk up the stairs to Dumbledore's office.

"Amazing," said Harry.

"What?"

"That Dumbledore stayed so thin. You'd think that between all those lemon drops and cockroach clusters there'd be a bit more weight gain."

"But then," said Draco, "you don't hear much about _pudgy_ great wizards, do you? It just doesn't fit." 

"Not at all."

"They're always old, but lean."

"And spry. Don't forget spry."

They walked up the spiraling staircase.

"Humor is always an interesting coping mechanism," said Draco halfway up. 

"Yeah." Harry's mouth was a somber line. "We're pathetic."

Past the stairs and into Dumbledore's office. It was two in the morning, and his office was completely deserted… Even Fawkes had burned up that very day, and not yet hatched anew. There was something about being in Dumbledore's empty office that unsettled Harry more than anything else this night. In the emptiness of the place, Dumbledore seemed more dead than ever.

Draco crossed the room to Dumbledore's desk. He stared at something for a moment. "Potter," he said.

The windows of Dumbledore's office were void of moonlight. Harry stared at the darkness outside the glass window panes. He felt as though he were looking into the empty eyes of someone dead.

"Maybe we should leave, Malfoy," Harry said, trying not to stutter. "It's…I don't feel right about this… I… There's a way to undo all of this, there must be a way. We shouldn't be here and we _definitely_ shouldn't leave a note."

"Someone already has."

"What?"

"Someone's left a note." Draco sounded so strange that Harry did not move for a good minute. Finally he walked clumsily to the desk, feeling as though the movements were no longer his own. Even his own shadow seemed foreign, after staring at it for so many minutes.

"Look at this," Draco said when Harry reached him. He held a piece of parchment out to Harry. When Harry made no move to take it, Draco growled and outstretched the parchment in front of Harry's eyes, holding the corners of it so taut that Harry feared the note might rip in half.

"Read it, Potter." Draco shoved the note in Harry's face. "Well, read it! Do as I say!"

"To the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Harry began stoically. The ink swam like cheap watercolor before his eyes. He tried to separate the sentences, but letters kept dripping off the words they were hooked to. Harry took a deep breath and continued. 

"Given your tendencies of pampering your favorite students, seeing only what you wish to see in them, I beg you to understand the sincerity in this letter. On the third floor of Hogwarts, in the classroom directly above your office, Harry Potter is in a tremendous amount of danger."

Harry looked at the letter a bit longer. "That's all it says," he murmured finally.

"Very dramatic reading, Potter," Draco hissed. "And who is it signed by, hm? Go on."

"A… A concerned benefactor."

"Very concerned!" Draco whipped the letter away from Harry and crumpled it in his pocket. "They set Dumbledore up! They sent him up there knowing we'd…"

"Only we didn't mean to… How could they have known?"

"It's this Entwined business, I'm telling you. The _Implexos_ thing, it's more important than I thought."

Harry looked helpless. "Maybe?" 

"Figure it out!"

"I can't, I…I don't know how."

"How many bloody adventures does it take?! How many times do people have to die until you start figuring out the plot? That's your problem, Harry Potter. Most heroes are always one step ahead of the game, but you? You're miles behind."

Draco had thought Harry would react with anger, but Harry only hung his head, black hair falling over his eyes. 

"_Miles_ behind," repeated Draco, hoping Harry would look at him.

"Burn the note too," was all Harry said. He ripped a piece of empty parchment from Dumbledore's desk. "You write the new one. I'm no good at this sort of thing."

"No good at what?" Draco droned. "Forging notes from dead men?"

"You're better at making things up. You're better at lying."

"Better at covering up _your_ mistakes, you mean."

"I wasn't the only one who killed him."

"It was you who let go of the spell."

"It would have killed us! It was you who _told me to let go_!" Harry's voice rose from a whisper to a shout in one quick breath. He grabbed Draco by the shoulders and Draco smiled. "It was you," Harry went on, "who wanted to find out about this spell in the first place. It was you who researched what it meant to be Entwined. It was you who brought books from the library. It's always you, Draco."

"It was you," replied Draco calmly, "who desired to kill."

"I…"

"Yes?"

"But you-"

"It's you," Draco said, "who revels in the power killing gives you."

"It was you who introduced me to that…" Harry's voice cracked. "To that power."

"It was you who first whispered _Avada Kedavra_ to the birds."

"And it was you who followed me."

"It was you who adored those words so much." Draco's eyes narrowed. "What am I talking about? It _is_ you who adores those words so much."

"And don't you wish you could adore those words too?"

"I'm going to kill you, Potter."

"What, again?" Harry laughed. "How many times have you made that threat, Malfoy?" 

"I mean it this time." 

"Don't you wish you could be exactly who you're supposed to be?" asked Harry softly.

"I am."

"No. You want to be me."

"You? Right! You, a clumsy, boring, ugly little…Four-eyes."

"I'm _none_ of those things," Harry said, his eyes flashing. He paused. "Well, except for the four-eyes bit, you've got me there."

"You're all of those things. " Draco imagined himself in Harry's glasses and shuddered. "It would be dreadful. Why on earth would I want to be you?"

"Because you're supposed to be me. Because you want to enjoy it too."

"Enjoy _what_?"

"The Killing Curse."

"So you admit it! You enjoyed it!" Draco smiled triumphantly. "You enjoyed it, just like I knew you would."

"And you, Malfoy, you didn't enjoy it quite as much as you expected to."

"But _you_-"

"This isn't about me."

"Are you sure, Harry? Hm. That's a first."

"Look, I'm sick of this. We could argue on like this forever and never get anywhere, because you're too much of a coward to admit how much you hated seeing those birds fall out of the sky. Well, I don't care what you hate. Write a note from Dumbledore, leave it on the desk. I'm going to bed."

Draco grabbed Harry's elbow before he could leave. "Stay here. Stay here while I write it."

"Hurry up then, would you?"

Draco glared and tore a piece of parchment off of Dumbledore's desk. He rummaged for a quill, then began scribbling. When he finished he stared at the parchment for a long moment, then showed the note to Harry. It read that Dumbledore had left and would they be kind enough to please leave him alone, he was sick of the war and the world. The handwriting was scrawled and messy, and nearly identical to Dumbledore's own handwriting.

"There is a spell," said Draco knowingly, "for copying someone's handwriting exactly, if you have a sample of their writing. But I'm rather excellent at forging other's handwriting, and this was easier." 

"Good," Harry said, rubbing his temples. "Great."

"I wasn't asking for your seal of approval." 

Harry rolled his eyes. "Bed, I need to go to-"

"Who do you think did this? Who wrote that note to Dumbledore?"

Harry tried to shrug his shoulders, but even that didn't seem worth the effort. "I don't know. A…A professor, I suppose. Who else would know we were up there?"

Draco shrugged. "Do you think perhaps it was Snape? I like him and all but…He'd adore getting you in trouble. Not that I can blame him."

"Snape?" Harry barked a laugh and moved to the door. "I'm not going after _that_ red herring again."

"_Someone_ did this," cried Draco, exasperated. 

"Yes." A strange look suddenly passed through Harry's eyes. Draco saw it, even though he was standing across the room from Harry. 

"What?" he asked.

"Was it you?" asked Harry.

"_What_?!"

"Was it you, Malfoy?" Harry's voice had never sounded so clear to Draco's ears.

There was silence.

"Funny," Harry said, striding back to Draco. "Isn't it? The note doesn't breathe a word about _you_. It only mentions me being upstairs."

"Because you're the one everyone's concerned with. Nobody cares what I do."

"Do you resent it? That I'm the center of everything?"

"It's getting to your head, isn't it?"

"I think this is your work, Malfoy."

"You finally believe all the propaganda about yourself. You really think you're great enough that I'd stoop so low? That I'd get you in trouble for something I myself asked you to do?"

"You did it before. Invited me to a duel and never showed."

"But this! You idiot. That was years ago and I'd never, I didn't-"

"Oh, you did. Don't act all reformed now. You haven't changed a bit, Malfoy."

"Did you ever think I had?"

"You wrote that note."

"Shut up, Potter."

"Make me." Harry walked closer. "And I don't mean shut me up with passionate embraces and kisses and all of that. Kill me, won't you? See if you can silence me because I'm sick of my own voice."

"This is all very depressing. Are you planning to kill yourself? Jump off a tower or something?"

Harry's face became void of emotion. 

"Go on, Harry. End it right now, and do you mind very much if I watch?"

The room seemed to lose all of its air; the office's walls seemed to creep closer with each breath.

"So you did write that note," Harry whispered. "You sent Dumbledore up there purposely."

"Of course I didn't! I have no idea who wrote it, and I certainly don't have to defend myself to _you_. Besides, we have bigger things to worry about. Dumbledore is dead."

"I want you," said Harry, so out of the blue that Draco couldn't help wondering if he'd heard right. "That doesn't surprise you, Draco, does it?"

Draco quickly regained his composure. "Not really." 

"You know it?"

"Mostly."

"Why would you betray me?"

"I wouldn't."

Harry leaned in and kissed Draco, a slow kiss that never felt real. "I think you would," he said, his words slipping between his lips and Draco's.

"No. Never." Draco pressed his mouth to Harry's, tasted him. It was the first kiss of theirs that did not seem inherently desperate, the first kiss that they allowed themselves to linger on and contemplate. "I'd never betray you. Kill you, perhaps, or hate you… Never betray."

"You really expect me to believe that? You're a Slytherin. Betrayal is what you guys do."

"Mm, you're probably right," murmured Draco, pulling Harry to the floor. Their bodies collided on the carpet. "I wouldn't believe anything I say."

"You honestly didn't write that note?"

"No, for the hundredth time, I didn't write that note."

"Oh. Well. That's good." 

"That I didn't write the note or-"

"No, what you just did." 

"Oh." Draco closed his eyes and felt the stillness of the room. "Why do I have to be on the bottom?" Draco whined suddenly. "This carpet smells like old people."

"Ew."

"I know."

"Way to ruin the moment."

"You don't believe me? Smell the carpet, Potter! Smell it right now!"

"Ergh. Fine, get up then."

"You first."

They did not move for several minutes. 

Harry memorized the texture of Draco's skin.

They tangled closer, and Harry wondered if their shadows were on the walls, in the sky, shakily reflecting upon the surface of oceans and rivers and foamy bath water.

"Harry."

"Er, yes. The old people. Sorry." With a weak smile, Harry rose to his feet. "I guess I'm going to bed then. Tomorrow is going to be... really, really weird."

"Better get your beauty sleep then, Potter." Draco paused. "Do you want to cry?"

"What?" Harry looked taken aback.

"After everything that's happened. Do you want to cry?"

"I just want all of the questions to stop." Harry felt his energy draining with each passing moment. "I want sleep. Okay?"

"Okay. Good night." Draco smirked. "Sweet dreams."

~~~

In his dreams, Draco was standing on the branch of a large oak tree. Crouched next to him sat Harry, who was crying. Dumbledore was standing on the ground below. A light blue tear drop, speckled with white salt, fell from Harry's eye. Draco waited for it to hit the ground, but instead Dumbledore caught the falling teardrop in his left hand. He caught the next tear in his right. If Harry cried enough, Draco decided, they would all drown. Dumbledore could not catch every single tear; he was only mortal.

"Like me," said Cedric Diggory into Draco's ear. 

"Yes."

"But not me." Harry stood on an extending branch, his tears suddenly gone. He flashed a daredevil grin. "I'm immortal."

"Yes," Draco said again. "You are."

"If I die, I don't."

"Oh," said Draco. "Well, I do."

"Do you?"

"Yes. Watch." 

"If you jump, you won't die," noted Harry dispassionately. "My tears will catch your fall." 

Draco shrugged, suddenly unsure of himself. "Don't they always?" 

Then he jumped off the tree branch and fell into the darkness of the morning light that barely trickled into the Slytherin dorm rooms.

Draco woke up.

~~~

Harry Potter didn't dream at all. 

~~~

It first became clear that something was wrong when the students sat down for breakfast at a table with no food, no plates, and no silverware.

"That's odd," said Hermione. "The house-elves are usually so efficient. I hope they're all right."

"I just want some breakfast," grumbled Ron. 

"Me too," said Harry. "I'm starved."

"Don't be so inconsiderate! They may be terribly injured!" cried Hermione. "They _always_ work, unless it's literally impossible. They could be captured! They could be dead!"

"They're probably just sleeping in," Ron shook his head. "And on a weekday too, those lazy bums."

"They could be prisoners to the Dark Lord!" Hermione went on. "They could be sick! They could be lost! They could be-"

"They're mourning," drawled a voice behind them. All three turned in their seats to see Draco Malfoy, watching them with what Harry thought looked very much like forced nonchalance.

"Mourning?" Hermione said shrilly. "Mourning what, exactly?"

"But haven't you heard? Aren't you three in Dumbledore's little circle? I'd think you'd be the _first_ to know, the first to mourn. But even the stupid little house-elves have beaten you to it, it seems."

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" snapped Ron.

"Perhaps Potter can tell you."

"Shut _up_, Malfoy," growled Harry. His eyes narrowed.

"Harry, tell us what's going on!"

Their conversation was interrupted by a great wail coming from outside the Great Hall. The buzzing of the students quickly ceased. Another wail followed the first one, only this one bounced off the walls and echoed in everyone's ears.

"I think that's Hagrid," whispered Hermione. "It sounds like he's crying." Her lips were pressed tightly together and she looked nervously at Ron.

Ron looked at Harry.

Harry looked away. "We'd better see what's wrong," he said, rising from the table. Ron, Hermione and Harry headed for the doors, their footsteps echoing in the silent room. Everyone else stared uneasily. The Great Hall sounded foreign without its endless clatter of silverware and plates.

There was another sob from outside, but it was interrupted by new footsteps and quick breath.

"Harry!" Ginny cried across the Great Hall. She ran to him. "Oh Harry, something horrible has happened. Harry, Harry. Harry, oh God, are you all right? Have you been hurt?" 

Hermione and Ron had stopped walking and were looking questioningly at Ginny. Harry kept walking.

"Harry!" Ginny cried again. She grabbed his arm and tried to hold him still.

Harry's hands turned to fists, but he simply shrugged Ginny off and kept walking. "Gotta see if Hagrid is all right," he said under his breath.

"Listen to me, Harry!" Ginny ran to catch up with Harry's long strides and grabbed his arm again, more tightly. "I just went to see Trelawney because my crystal ball broke and she said- Harry, _stay still_, won't you?! Oh, you won't believe me but Dumbledore has-"

Harry jerked and pushed Ginny away suddenly and roughly, shoving her as hard as he could. Ginny didn't even stumble. She fell right to the floor, skidding along it until she came to a stop.

Her face became very white, and for a moment no one made a sound. Ginny stared up at Harry, dumbfounded, her brown eyes wide, their dark color contrasting sharply with her pale face. Harry's classmates were staring with equal amazement, but Harry saw only Ginny. Looking into her face, Harry felt as though he had injured another species of creature all together, like a boy who kicks a rabbit and suddenly realizes how fragile it is.

"Harry?" Ginny whispered, her whisper suspended in the air, hanging, waiting... 

Harry's head crashed against the floor and a fist connected with the side of his head. Harry shouted, only able to see the color red. He slowly realized that his vision was clear and that red was in fact all there was to see. Ron had him pinned to the floor. His fists flew, pounding Harry's stomach and head with an inconsistent menacing rhythm. Harry writhed with pain but stayed still until Ron leaned in close next to Harry's ear, his bright hair falling into his eyes. Ron had grown in the past year, Harry discovered very suddenly. 

Hermione was in the corner comforting Ginny. They were crying. So was Ron, Harry realized, as he saw the tears in Ron's eyes. 

"You bastard," Ron's slurs became more legible, until he suddenly screaming into Harry's ear. His voice made Harry shake. "_Never_ hurt my sister," screamed Ron. "Don't ever touch her! Don't ever touch her! Don't _ever touch her_. Ever! Okay?! You hear me?!" He jammed his elbow into Harry's gut. "Do you hear me?! You're going to _die_ for that, you…" Harry felt another blow to his head. "…complete…" And another. "_…bastard_. I never want to see your face again. I thought you said things had changed! I thought things were _better_, I thought you cared about my sister, you filthy liar!"

Harry winced, at the words and the pain. However he didn't fight back. He let Ron punch him until Ron's red hair began to turn black and the lights of the Great Hall dimmed.

There was a brief struggle somewhere above Harry's head, the bold shouting of a spell. Suddenly Ron's weight was gone and Harry began to feel the floor underneath his body. 

Harry was disappointed. He had begun to believe he was floating, ascending into the sky.

But no, Harry thought with a sigh, he was still here. The Great Hall came into focus and so did Draco Malfoy. 

"I think we'd better get you out of here," said Draco cheerfully. He was kneeling at Harry's side. "Before they all attack you with pitchforks."

"Pitchforks?" murmured Harry.

"Yes. Sharp and pointy pitchforks, judging by the way they're glaring at you."

"Oh."

"And I'm not going to carry you," said Draco. "Get up yourself, Potter." 

Harry was aware of all the eyes in the Great Hall staring straight at him. Anger in some, confusion in others… Colin Creevey's camera flashed and Harry quickly looked away. He did not want to meet the gaze of Ron or Hermione or Ginny. He couldn't face them. 

Finally Harry struggled to his feet and Draco slung one of Harry's arms over his shoulder and began to help him out of the Great Hall. "This is a bit of role reversal, isn't it?" said Draco loudly, ignoring the stares and shocked murmurs running through the crowd. "Usually it's you helping Weasley limp pathetically away after I pummel him to dust."

"Shut up!" someone yelled, but Ron said nothing. Harry wondered briefly if Draco had knocked him unconscious.

"Weasley's outside talking to that freak, Hagrid," said Draco as if reading Harry's mind. "Don't worry about either of them."

Harry sighed, too dizzy to say anything, and Draco removed Harry's arm from his shoulder. "You can walk on your own now, can't you?" he asked.

Harry nodded and the two walked out of the Great Hall, Harry stumbling from time to time and trying not to trip over his feet.

"You should drink something," said Draco once they were alone in the hallway. "Or go to Madame Pomfrey's. Doubt she'd be there though."

"I'm fine," Harry said, gingerly running his fingers over his eyelid before wincing and pulling his hand away. His entire face felt sore, and he would be covered in bruises by evening, Harry could tell. "Where's Madame Pomfrey?"

"With the house-elves, I'd expect."

"Doing what?"

"Praying."

"_Praying_?" exclaimed Harry, his shock clearing his head. "To…To what, exactly?"

"I don't think they know." Draco paused. "I sneaked into the kitchens a few hours ago, before all the other students woke up. I guess the house-elves had discovered Dumbledore was gone first. He's an early riser or something, and the house-elves always bring him a bit of breakfast before he gets out of bed. Dumbledore always gets up at dawn and according to the house-elves he'd _never_ miss breakfast."

"Missed."

"Quiet. Anyway, from what I picked up, they left Dumbledore's chambers and went to Filch to see where Dumbledore was. Filch got Snape, who went to Dumbledore's office to see if he was there… By this time it was nearly six in the morning. The searched the castle and eventually realized Dumbledore was gone. I can only assume they found the note. The staff has been informed that Dumbledore is gone and no one knows what to do."

"Someone is supposed to take over, aren't they?"

Draco shrugged. "They're still figuring it all out. McGonagall, as deputy headmistress, should take his place, only… Well, I saw her in the kitchens and she's a wreck. I guess some people just can't handle the pressure, eh Potter?"

"But McGonagall is…She's so brave. She's head of Gryffindor House!"

"I know what I saw. The whole thing was rather funny, really. The house-elves were all running around in black dish cloths. I suppose it was their way of mourning. They wouldn't stop wailing and McGonagall kept trying to tell them to be quiet before they woke up the castle but she could hardly speak, let alone issue commands."

"The staff, they all know?"

"Yes. They're trying to find a way to break it as gently as they can to the students, even if it takes all day. Load of rubbish if you ask me."

"I didn't."

"I mean honestly, we have every right to know as soon as possible! Although I suppose it makes sense if everyone is going to react like the Weasley girl did when she found out. Chasing after you like that, clinging to you. I can see why you avoid her so often."

"Please don't talk about Ginny."

"They'll never forgive you, you know. Your friends. Your house. Ginny. You pushed her down!" Draco laughed. "Last thing I'd ever expect from you. Potter, the living proof that chivalry is alive and well. Yet...You shoved her away!"

"I know. And I'll never forgive myself either."

"Don't be stupid. Of course you will. You'll have more important things to worry about. Anyway, you didn't really hurt her. It looked more painful than it actually was, I think. Although that little sob she gave when she hit the floor _was_ rather dreadful."

"You should have let Ron kill me," said Harry, turning away.

"He wouldn't have killed you. He just hates you. And the enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"Ron isn't my enemy."

"Try telling him that," said Draco gleefully. "I guess that means we're friends now, Potter!"

"Great."

"Isn't it though? Can we share clothes and gossip all night long about how cute the paper boy is?"

"I can't believe you ever said I'm more girly than you are."

"Must we get into that again? I think I proved my manliness to you. Anyway, you shouldn't talk, Potter. You were simply lying there when Weasley attacked you. It really was the most pitiful thing I've ever seen. Do you want to go flying?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

"I'll get your broom for you if you're too weak and stupid. The sun's up and the air is perfect. We could fly far this time, further than ever before."

Harry smiled as he imagined Hogwarts growing smaller and smaller until it was a speck in the distance.

And then Harry realized that he hated Hogwarts. Last year he had loved it, last year it had been home. Now it was a place of trickery and deceit. Hidden towers, moving staircases, invisible men and ghosts. Nothing was as it seemed and that was what Harry had grown to hate. At the Dursley's, life had been hell but at least he'd known what was what, at least it had been a predictable hell. Harry had _known_ he was miserable and in knowing that, his thoughts were not consumed with doubt and choices and worries. Things were always so...Simple. 

Choosing the Dursley's over Hogwarts. Harry had never thought he'd live to see the day. 

"Do you want to go flying or not?" 

"Yeah," Harry said, smiling again. "I do. Please."

"Good. I'll go get your broom, just give me the password to the Gryffindor common room. I don't feel like sneaking into your room again. Last night the window was closed." Draco would know. He had checked before going to bed. 

"Potter. Malfoy."

Their heads snapped up and they quickly forgot any plans of flying.

Professor McGonagall was rushing down the hall towards them. Her robes were wrinkled but she held herself with dignity. Her face was crisp and smooth as she nodded to them. Harry could hardly believe that Draco had said she'd looked a wreck. Right now she seemed very put together. 

"The headmaster wishes to see you two," McGonagall said, with a grace that suggested she had practiced these words many times.

Harry and Draco glanced at each other. "Er, you mean Dumbledore wants to see us?" asked Harry. 

"Who _else_ would she mean, Potter?" said Draco with a smile to McGonagall and a glare to Harry.

"_Is_ it Dumbledore, Professor?"

"I. Well. You see." For the first time, McGonagall faltered. She wrung her hands. "Just…" Her hands fell to her sides. "Just follow me, boys."

"Are we in trouble, Professor?" asked Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy, do not ask questions!" McGonagall snapped, her face taut.

"Professor?" Harry's voice was soft. "What's happened? What does the headmaster want?"

"I… I don't know, Potter. I honestly haven't the faintest clue." McGonagall looked like she might laugh, and that in itself was appalling. McGonagall did not laugh, not in front of the students. "Follow me, will you? Please, boys." McGonagall did not laugh, but her voice cracked and she quickly looked away.

Harry wanted to pat McGonagall on the shoulder but he couldn't imagine himself actually doing so. McGonagall had always been a figure of not only strength, but stubbornness, someone you knew would hold on until the end and manage to do so without any of her hair coming loose from its tight bun.

Only she was breaking, and Harry noticed the stray wisps of hair coming loose from her bun and curling jaggedly around her face and shoulders. 

They followed her upstairs until they reached the stone gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office. It was at this point that McGonagall's emotions became truly apparent. She opened her mouth to speak the password, but no sound came out. Biting her lower lip, McGonagall stared at the gargoyle as if willing it to open. She was shaking. 

"Professor?" Harry was startled. "Professor? Is…Is everything all right?"

"Y-yes, Potter." Her shaking subsided, although her hands quivered briefly before she clasped them together, quelling any further movement. "Trying to remember the new password. Ah, yes." McGonagall tried to clear her throat. "_Implexos_," she whispered. 

The gargoyle moved. McGonagall began to walk forward but Harry felt stuck to the spot. The two boys stared at one another.

"_Implexos_," Harry muttered to Draco. "Isn't that what we are? I mean, unless it really is a fable and this is all a coincidence."

"This whole thing is a bit suspicious," Draco said under his breath. "How do we know if this is a coincidence or not?"

Harry shrugged. "We have no choice. Better go in there and get it over with."

Draco had become paler. "Do you think they know about what we did? Oh God. This is amazingly foolish, Potter. We're walking into a death trap."

"Maybe. Or maybe you're just paranoid. Only one way to find out, huh? You can stay here if you like."

Without a second glance, Harry began climbing the stairs to Dumbledore's office. Draco stared after him, then rushed forward. Catching up to Harry, he grabbed the other boy's arm and twisted it behind his back. Harry ignored him and kept walking up the stairs. Draco leaned in close.

"Listen Potter, I'm not kidding. We're going to get ourselves killed and we'll die a very painful death and why the hell am I following you?"

"Go back! I'll be okay."

"Why is it that whenever you walk blindly into something that should probably kill you, you always manage to take someone else along for the ride? And _they_ always seem to be the one to get hurt? You're bad luck, Potter, to everyone but yourself."

"That really doesn't make sense. If I'm such bad luck, why don't you go away?"

Very softly: "You know I can't do that."

"Look, I just want to find out what the headmaster thinks happened to Dumbledore."

"The headmaster could be Voldemort, you idiot."

"I doubt it. I'll be okay. Go back and talk to Crabbe and Goyle. Go have some breakfast."

Draco sniffed. "I would, but I doubt the house-elves will get reorganized until noon. You should have seen the way they were _wailing_. Very annoying."

"Would you shut up about the house-elves? I don't need you complaining in my ear."

"Well, excuse me! I had no idea our little hero was too much of a coward to stand some first-rate complai-"

Draco shut up very fast. Harry's eyes narrowed.

"I will see you boys later," said McGonagall. Without another word, she left the two standing in front of the new headmaster of Hogwarts.

"_Father_?!" cried Draco. 

Lucius Malfoy steepled his fingers. "Address me as Headmaster Malfoy," he said. His eyes were fixated on Harry. "Mr. Potter. It is a pleasure, as always. My, but you look a mess. Had a fight? Or were you just out saving the world?"

"How did you manage to worm your way into this position?" asked Harry coldly.

Lucius waved a hand airily. "Credentials, Mr. Potter, credentials. And of course, more importantly…Leadership." Lucius smiled and stood up. He was wearing the starry robes Dumbledore used to wear and Harry stared. He couldn't imagine Lucius Malfoy in anything but black. However, at full length, his eyes sharp, his body strong... Harry had to admit that Lucius looked very powerful and capable.

"Needless to say," Lucius said, "Hogwarts has always needed a leader quite desperately. Sadly, Mr. Dumbledore did not provide such leadership. Senile old man got caught in his ways, I'm afraid. A shame. Things are changing _so_ fast, I'm sure you boys have noticed, even being stuck in this school as you are." Lucius lifted a torn piece of paper and held it between two fingers. His eyes traveled along it languidly. "Apparently, things were changing _too_ fast for Albus, in fact. According to his note, he's left Hogwarts for good. I wish him well on his... _travels_, of course."

And then Lucius looked up and grinned. Harry and Draco both shivered inwardly, but their faces betrayed nothing.

"Neither of you look very surprised," Lucius noted. "Were you expecting Dumbledore to just pick up and leave all of his worldly possessions behind in this very office? Has that rumor been going around? Funny, none of the staff seems to have seen it coming, judging by the reactions and the dreadful sobbing that's gone on all day. It's quite a good thing I showed up when I did, otherwise this school might have been burnt to ashes before noontime! But no matter, all is well. Don't look so worried, boys, you're practically shaking. Draco, I'm surprised at you. You know I would never harm a hair on your head." 

"Perhaps not," said Draco smoothly. "But you're still a bastard."

Lucius Malfoy's smile did not falter. He only turned to Harry and leaned in confidentially. "Don't mind Draco, Harry. He's just going through his rebellious stage. It's rather tiresome, but should pass with time. And now that I control this school…I expect Mr. Malfoy to treat me most respectfully. Do you hear me, Draco?"

Draco only glared.

"Such insolence. We'll deal with it later, hm? First, I have a gift for each of you," said Lucius. He opened a drawer and from it pulled out a medium-sized white box. "I don't suppose I could get you to close your eyes and make a wish? No? A shame." With a smile, Lucius slid the lid off the box and reached into it. "Hold out your hands," he said forcefully, making it clear that this was not a suggestion but a command. Harry and Draco glanced at each other. Then each held out a hand. 

Harry didn't even feel when the object first gently settled upon his palm, but when he looked down he realized his hand was no longer empty. In it there lay a long, narrow white and grey feather. It was smooth and soft, brushing easily along the lines of his palm. Draco's gift was nearly identical to Harry's, save a few changes in the the feather's markings. Draco's eyes were so narrowed they had become slits, betraying nothing as he stared steadily at what was in his hands. 

"Geese feathers are strangely beautiful, don't you think, boys?" said Lucius. His head was tilted in a politely curious manner but his eyes glinted with intelligence and laughter.

Harry saw the green flash of light again in his mind. He saw the birds falling out of the sky, saw their perfectly shaped feathers. He felt Draco's lips on his and ached for the memory.

His heart was beating rapidly, but Harry met Lucius Malfoy's gaze and did not waver.

"So you know," said Harry quietly.

Lucius Malfoy nodded. 


End file.
